


Darling, Don't Make Me Do It

by TreeFinder27



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Bisexuality, Blood, Darkfic, Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, Homosexuality, M/M, Manipulation, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder, Obsessive Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, alternative universe, fabricated memories, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:23:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreeFinder27/pseuds/TreeFinder27
Summary: Waylon wakes up and meets his husband for seemingly the first time, having no memories of him or anything else concerning Waylon’s life. Waylon learns more about his life and begins to get to know Eddie, slowly figuring out why it is that he might have fallen for the man. However, Waylon also starts regaining memories, memories that don’t make sense. Memories of Eddie doing horrible things in order to keep Waylon by his side. Waylon must decide whether to trust Eddie, his loving husband, or his memories, which seem to grow more and more outlandish every day.





	1. Awake

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is what happens when you watch too much Twilight Zone after playing Outlast. I’m fairly new to this fandom, but I've been really enjoying it. I Figured it would be fun to write something. I took a lot of creative liberties when writing this concerning characters' personalities and canon.

Waylon tries to block out the obnoxious sound of his alarm clock by clutching his pillow to his ears. Finding that this isn’t actually effective, he begrudging rolls off the edge of the bed and slams his hand down on the damned thing. Satisfied that it’s finally silent, Waylon stands up and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

Waylon instantly drops his hands from his eyes when he feels a gentle squeeze on his ass accompanied by a baritone, “Good morning, darling—sleep well?”

“What the fuck!?” Waylon exclaims, quickly whipping his body around to face whoever had grabbed him. Waylon peers up at a tall man with a broad chest, wearing a well-fitted dress shirt that clings to his large muscles. His jet black hair is slicked back into an undercut hairstyle that somehow makes him appear a little edgy, yet classy. All in all, if Waylon wasn’t so concerned about said man grabbing his ass, he might have stopped and appreciated the man’s physical appearance. The man looks at Waylon as he fixes the position of his blue bow tie, his cheeky expression quickly dropping to one of concern.

“Rough night? What’s wrong?” Apprehension is evident in the man’s chocolatey voice, and he takes a step closer to Waylon, reaching out a hand to caress his face.

“Don’t touch me!” Waylon shouts, jumping backwards and out of the man’s reach. “Who-who are you?”

The man looks as though he has been slapped, his hand outstretched towards Waylon remaining frozen in the air. “Darling, it’s me, Eddie. Your husband.”

Waylon glares at him. “No, you’re not. I’ve never seen you before in my life. You better explain what you’re doing here—quickly.”

“Oh my God… Please, don’t tell me…” Eddie takes another step towards Waylon, only for Waylon to take a step back in retreat. “Please tell me you’re joking—please. What about your name, can you tell me that? Do you remember who you are?”

“If this is some kind of sick game…” Waylon warns as he takes another step back, “then I’m not playing. I’m serious, who are you?”

“It’s no game. Now tell me, do you remember your name?” Eddie demands as he scans Waylon’s eyes for any trace of recognition. Waylon stares at Eddie’s figure, nervously waiting for the man to approach him once more. 

“Waylon Park.” He recites, after he’s certain that the man isn’t going to take any more steps towards him again.

Eddie’s face falls. He brings a hand to his mouth in an attempt to hide his disappointment. “No. It’s Waylon Gluskin—you haven’t gone by Waylon Park for the last decade.”

Waylon’s face scrunches up in confusion. A decade? That can’t be… “Wait, how old am I? How old are you?” Waylon pauses, alarm starting to sink in. “Who are you, really?”

Eddie’s face pales and he moves to plop down on the bed. Waylon moves out of his way and warily watches him as he leans his elbows on his knees and places his face in his hands. “Oh darling… I can’t believe this has happened again so soon.”

What the fuck is this guy talking about? Waylon stares down at Eddie. He appears to be genuinely distressed. “What do you mean...?”

Eddie looks as though he’s on the verge of tears. “You’re not well, darling. You sometimes forget large chunks of your life, and sometimes you replace those parts with false memories. Usually something you’ve seen on TV or read in a book. You don’t know you’re doing it until your memory comes back.”

Waylon’s eyes are frantic, and his voice is shaky. “You’re messing with me, right?”

“No, I’m not.” Eddie’s voice sounds hoarse as he shakes his head. “You don’t have any memories outside of this conversation, do you?” Eddie waits for Waylon to shake his head. “You must be terrified, darling. I wish I could fix all of this for you… If it’s any consolation, in the past, you’ve been able to regain most of your memories.”

Waylon’s head is spinning. He shuts his eyes and tries to remember some part of his past—anything—but he’s drawing a blank. “How many times has this happened before?” Waylon’s voice sounds high-pitched and desperate, even to his own ears.

Eddie puts his hands up in an attempt to pacify Waylon. “Please, calm down, darling. Your doctor said it’s not good to work yourself up like this. Don’t cause yourself unnecessary stress.” Eddie pauses before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a wallet. He opens it up and pulls out an ID card. Waylon takes a couple shuffled steps towards the bed to look at the card. “Do you recognize this person?”

Waylon looks at the picture and then stares incredulously at Eddie. “Yeah. That’s me.” He looks a bit younger in the picture, his hair looking slightly too long, but it is still obviously Waylon. Eddie exhales a sigh of relief. “Wait, have I not recognized myself before?”

“No, no, not yet. It’s just… Forgive me, I was just nervous. But now that we’ve established that you recognize yourself, do you remember when this photo was taken?”

Waylon studies the picture again before shaking his head. Eddie’s shoulders slump even further. “This is your photo ID from when you worked for Murkoff. I keep it on my person for incidences such as this. I’ve found that seeing an integral piece of your life can be very helpful for you. This is where you had your head injury, which is why you sometimes have difficulties remembering things. I don’t suppose you remember the elevator accident?” Eddie glances up at him, blues eyes brimming with hope. 

Waylon’s mind spins. The name Murkoff sounds familiar. He ignores the dull aching in his skull as he tries to recall more. He remembers running through a massive building, and constantly hiding. He remembers trying to escape from someone in an elevator shaft and... He can’t remember much more, but he feels a sharp pain shoot through his right foot.

Eddie sighs. “You were on your way to work—you used to work for Murkoff as a software consultant. You had for years. You were taking the elevator to your floor, when the elevator malfunctioned and dropped to the basement floor. You hit your head in the accident, and your memory hasn’t been the same since.”

At this point Waylon realizes that he’s shaking. “I-I don’t know… I just don’t remember…”

Eddie nods gravely before continuing on. “Ok, then what about me? We’ve been married for the last ten years. We bought this house two years ago, just before your accident. We met at my shop. You originally came in to see if I could restore your mother’s wedding dress. After that you kept bringing in obviously intentionally torn pants and shirts.” Eddie stops to smile at Waylon, eyes full of affection. “Of course I never complained. I was just thrilled to have the opportunity to see you again. Do you remember that?” Eddie’s eyes are filled with unshed tears as he looks at Waylon. 

Waylon pauses, closes his eyes and concentrates. He remembers a man in a dirty dress shirt, stitches visible all throughout the garment. He sees a horribly blistered face pop up through a small window, surprising Waylon with his bloody eyes and unnaturally wide smile. Waylon practically shivers as he remembers what the man said to him, the longing in his eyes. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? I know I’ve seen your face. Maybe…Just before I woke up. Though it seems like a dream now, being here with you.” Waylon opens his eyes wide, unaware that he was speaking aloud the words that he remembered the terrifying man telling him through the window.

Eddie looks delighted. “Yes, darling! I told you that the first time I met you! When you first came by my shop! You looked so painstakingly familiar, I felt like I had met you somehow already. I was so embarrassed that I babbled such nonsense to you upon meeting you for the first time, but thankfully you found it charming. What else do you remember?”

Waylon closes his eyes once more, thinking of the scarred face and bloody eyes. He pictures hallways filled with dead bodies, so many that he can practically taste the blood. He hears laughter ringing in his ears, and a voice whispering, _“Let me fill you up… You don’t have to be alone anymore. You could make me whole. I could fill that emptiness inside of you… Let me love you.”_

“I think I remember you, actually, but… You look different.” Waylon squints as he takes in the other man’s face. He looks just like the man in his memory, but without the scars or blood-red eyes. And the man in front of him has a kind and easy smile, so unlike the man he envisioned gaping at him through a window.

Eddie cocks his head to the side, imploring him to continue. “You uh- you had a lot of scarring on your face. And your eyes—they looked like there was something wrong with them. I’m not sure what… You just—you looked really different.”

Eddie is expressionless as he nods. “Ok, anything else you recall about me?”

_“You don’t have to run from me. I only want to love you… I want to know you! I want to fix you! I want to make you better!”_ Waylon remembers running as fast as he can, hiding under tables and inside lockers—anywhere to avoid the man chasing after him. _“I only want to love you… Darling, you could be so beautiful,”_ the voice purrs. _“You’re going to make me work for it, aren’t you, you minx?”_

Waylon sees his arms and legs strapped down on a dirty table, the stench of blood and death practically suffocating him. _“It won’t take long. A few snips of the flesh here, and here. Cut away everything… Vulgar. A soft place to welcome my seed, to grow our family…”_ It’s at this moment that Waylon notices the saw buzzing between his naked legs in his mind’s eye. _“I’ll make the cut fast, just close your eyes and think of our children.”_

Waylon jerks back to the present, hands quickly patting his arms and legs, ensuring they’re still fully intact. This other man, who bares such close resemblance to the man sitting before him, had… Had tried to hurt him— _Had tried to castrate him._

Waylon realizes that while this man claims to be his husband, he has yet to show him any proof. Sure, the man has his work ID card, but what does that really prove? How is Waylon to believe that this Eddie guy is telling him the truth? Maybe these memories aren’t fabricated at all. Anyone can have work done to remove scarring. How is he to know that Eddie isn’t lying to him?

Waylon shakes his head, mumbling out, “Nothing, that’s it.” He’s not sure whether it’s smart to divulge any extra information with Eddie. Not yet. 

Eddie looks at him for a hard moment. Waylon feels Eddie’s eyes searching his own, assessing him. Waylon squirms under his gaze. “You’re absolutely sure, darling?” You don’t remember anything else about me?”

“I’m sure,” If this truly is his husband, then he’s sure that Eddie will understand his hesitancy to share more and will forgive him later, but Waylon is determined to wait for that to be proven true first.

Eddie watches Waylon, eyes narrowed skeptically. “It’s imperative that you share everything that you think you remember. You haven’t in the past, and it’s led to some problems.”

“I told you, that’s it,” Waylon growls. He get’s it. Eddie doesn’t believe him. But Eddie also must understand that Waylon doesn’t fully believe him either. “And I’m sorry, but you keep asking me questions, but you haven’t answered all of mine. Who are you?”

Eddie looks slightly taken aback back Waylon’s barking tone. “Waylon, I told you—I’m your husband. See?” Eddie lifts up his left hand and points to his ring. Waylon looks at his own hand and finds a matching, gold band there as well. This doesn’t really prove much, though. Just because they both have gold wedding rings doesn’t necessarily mean they’re married to each other. 

“Yeah, ok, anything else you can show me that might jog my memories? How about you bring out honeymoon photos? Stuff from our wedding? Hell, log onto Facebook and show me your fucking profile, just something!” Waylon is practically seething, all his anxiety and stress finally bubbling to the surface.

"Darling,” Eddie snarls, “I know you are under a lot of stress, but I would appreciate it greatly if you refrained from swearing and raising your voice at me. I’m doing the best I can right now.”

The admonishment hits Waylon like a bucket of ice water, instantly bringing down his elevated nerves. The man before him appears every bit as distressed as Waylon feels right now. His hands are shaking, his face looks pale, and he looks like he’s starting to sweat. Waylon bites his lip, suddenly feeling like an asshole. What if Eddie is telling the truth? What if this guy actually is his husband, and is just trying to do his best to understand what is currently going on in Waylon’s head? A hot wave a shame rolls through his body. He’s not trying to be a dick to Eddie, especially while Eddie is trying to help him. Waylon’s just not sure what to think anymore.

“Sorry about that.” Waylon murmurs, staring at the ground in attempt to avoid Eddie’s gaze. “I’m just a little nervous, I guess. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

A genuine smile creeps onto Eddie’s face. “Quite alright, Waylon darling. You don’t typically have much of a temper, just when you forget things. And you had asked to see some photo albums or things of that nature, but I’m afraid I can’t show those to you—at least not right now.” Eddie exhales deeply. “It’s most unfortunate, but a lot of our photos were lost due to water damage in our previous home. There wasn’t much that was salvageable, so we threw it all away before we moved here. My parents are in the process of making us a new photo album with the random photos that they’ve taken of us through the years. And as far as Facebook goes, neither of us have one. I’m horrible with technology, and you’re a fairly private person.” Eddie pauses here to pull out his wallet once more and dig through it for a moment. “I have one photo from our wedding, but it’s grainy and poor quality. Since we lost all of our photos, I got this one from your friend, Miles, who was our witness at the courthouse the day we got married. I believe he used his phone to take the picture.” Waylon looks the picture over. It definitely looks like something taken using an old flip phone. Eddie is right—the picture is extremely grainy, and pixelated, probably in part to being blown up to a larger size. Waylon can barely make out a short blonde man standing next to a taller, larger, black-haired man. There’s no way to tell who either of these men are. 

“It doesn’t help at all, I know.” Eddie groans as he puts the picture back in his wallet and pockets his wallet once more. “We also have our marriage certificate, if you’d like to see that? However, I can assume that it won’t be very helpful for you to see, either. Typically, you argue that marriage certificates can be counterfeited fairly easily, so it isn’t good evidence.” Waylon tightens his lips into a thin line before slowly nodding his head. He’s comforted by the fact that Eddie seems to know exactly how Waylon would have responded. Perhaps he can believe Eddie in claiming that they’ve been through this before. “I have other pictures, but they’re all more recent. Neither of us are exactly fond of having our pictures taken, but we’ve been trying to take more since you’ve started having issues with your memories. We can look through those, if you’d like?” 

“Yeah, that’d be good. Let’s look at whatever pictures we have.” It won’t exactly prove to Waylon that he has been married to Eddie for ten years, but Waylon is hopeful that it will at least help him learn more about his relationship with Eddie. Maybe, it will calm the persistent feeling in his gut telling him to distrust Eddie. It’s all very confusing, because at the same time, he can’t help but feel a familiar sense of warmth when he looks at the man.

“Alright, wait right here. I’ll be right back.” Eddie glances at Waylon before hurrying out of the room.

Waylon takes the opportunity to glance around the room a bit. The bedroom is decorated with deep blues and charcoal grays, their dressers and bed posts a dark Mahogany. He catches his appearance in the mirror, and takes a step closer. His shaggy hair looks familiar enough, and there isn’t anything that seems particularly peculiar about his appearance. Although, Waylon blanches as he notices his pajamas. _What the fuck am I wearing?_ Waylon doesn’t remember anything about himself right now, but he likes to think that he’s not type of person to go to bed in a matching Broadcloth pajama set. He feels like he’s more of the t-shirt and boxer type of guy.

“Okay, I’m back.” Waylon jumps as Eddie rushes back into the room, dumping an armful of picture frames onto the bed.

“How about this one,” Eddie says, quickly picking up a frame and holding it up for Waylon to see. “This was from our trip to Europe last Fall. We spent a month traveling to as many different countries as we could. Do you remember this at all?” Waylon eyes the picture and shakes his head.

Eddie snatches up a different framed photo. “Ok, how about this one?” Waylon almost blushes as he looks at the picture of the two at some sort of pool party, instantly noticing Eddie’s topless, chiseled form. The two are in a pool together, Waylon on top of Eddie’s shoulders, making some sort of goofy expression, while Eddie smiles proudly for the camera.

“Uh, no… I don’t remember that at all.”

Eddie chucks the photo to the edge of the bed and grabs another one. “This one will be sure to jog your memories,” Eddie chuckles as he holds the photo up to Waylon. They are both covered in mud, with medals around their necks. Eddie has one elbow leaning on Waylon’s shoulders, looking smug as can be, while Waylon glowers at the camera. “We did a mud-run—my idea of course. I thought it was a good time.” Waylon gives Eddie a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Waylon glances at the rest of the photos spread out on the bed. They seemed to have made a lot of memories together in the last couple years, so why can’t he remember anything?

“It seems like we’re pretty happy together?” Waylon means to state this as a fact, but it ends up sounding like a question.

Eddie returns Waylon’s weak smile with a sad one, glancing briefly at the rest of the photos lying on the bed. “We are. Our life together is nearly perfect. If only you could always remember it…”

“I’m trying, I really am. Can you think of anything else that might help?”

“I’m sorry, darling. In the past, the most helpful thing for you has been time…” Eddie scrubs a hand down his face. Then, a thought seems to strike him, because his entire demeanor brightens up. “How about a visit to your doctor? He’ll be able to show you his case notes, and probably some other documents too—Maybe that could help expedite your memory recall. Let me just call him a moment.”

“That’s—yeah, that’d be great. I think that’d be really helpful.” Waylon smiles politely at Eddie as the man gets up to search for his phone.

“I’m not sure where I left that blasted thing, but I’ll be right back!” Eddie calls as he strolls into the hallway. Waylon hears the _clomp clomp_ of footsteps racing down stairs. 

_Ok, this isn’t so bad. This will be fine. My memory has come back every time in the past, apparently._ Waylon looks around the bedroom for a bit once more, deciding that it’s time to get out of his heinous pajama outfit. He begins searching through their closet and dresser, frowning at all the clothes that seem either too fancy or too expensive for his taste. After digging through the bottom drawer of a dresser, he finds some ratty-looking jeans and an old, plaid button down shirt, wrinkled and shoved behind the rest of the clothes. He slips it on and checks the mirror, smiling slightly as he feels a little bit more in control. Now, he actually looks like himself again. Even if he doesn’t exactly know who that person is. He makes for the door, but stops to look at the photos lying on the bed once more. _We really do look happy._ A photo picturing Waylon and Eddie both dressed up in suits and smiling ear to ear for the camera catches Waylon’s eyes.

Eddie is standing behind Waylon, his hands reaching around easily to encompass Waylon’s stomach. Waylon is leaning into the embrace, smiling so large that you can hardly see the whites of his eyes. He picks up another framed photo. The two of them are both in messy clothing, kissing in front of a house, Waylon’s smile still evident even though his mouth is partially covered by Eddie’s. The cursive print on the frame announcing NEW HOME.

Waylon drops the photo back on the bed and exits the bedroom. He begins to survey their home. He doesn’t know his way around, but he’s happy to walk around and take everything in. Waylon has to admit, it looks nice. He’s sure that he himself did not have anything to do with the decorating, as the house looks like something out of a magazine—much more refined than what Waylon assumes his sense of style looks like. Eventually, he finds himself going down a flight of stairs and walking through a hallway to the kitchen. Now that he thinks about it, he realizes that he is extremely hungry. Whatever his life was like before, he must not have had much time to eat, because he feels as though he is starving. He walks over to the kitchen and takes a peek in the fridge. He cringes as he takes in all the food options. This is his house, right? Why aren’t there any food options that appeal to him? Everything in the fridge either looks expensive or healthy. What’s with the surplus of vegetables? Where’s all the regular food? If this is Waylon’s house, then why isn’t there anything in the fridge besides green shit?

Waylon decides that he wants an explanation for this, but he’s not sure where Eddie went off to. He has been gone for a while, wasn’t he just going to grab his phone and call the doctor? Waylon starts roaming around the unfamiliar house once more, until he finds a door ajar. Hearing a voice on the other side, he quietly approaches the door.

“Yes, of course… Yes, I did, but that didn’t seem to help much. I think he is thinking about Mount Massive again…” Waylon feels cold sweat tickling his skin. Mount Massive? That name sounds so familiar. After a long pause Eddie continues speaking in a hushed tone. “Yes, I’m not sure what else I can tell him to make him believe me… Well that’s why I wanted to call you—I think it might be easier for him to believe all of this if he hears it from you… I would most certainly call this an emergency… I haven’t had to do that yet, but I would definitely like to avoid resorting to that, if possible… Yes, we’ll leave right now. Thank you so much, Trager. We’ll see you soon.”

Before Waylon can retreat from the door, it quickly swings open, catching Waylon off guard. “Darling, what are you doing there?” Eddie looks alarmed.

_Why the fuck does he look so nervous? I’m the one who was caught eavesdropping._

“I wasn’t sure where you were… I was hungry, but I couldn’t find anything that looked good in the fridge.” Might as well act as though he hadn't heard anything. Better not to show his hand just in case Waylon’s gut is right, and Eddie ends up being someone not to be trusted. And Waylon is starting to feel that he might not want to trust Eddie after what he heard. Why the hushed whispers? Obviously, Eddie is keeping some secrets from Waylon, or he wouldn’t have shut himself away in a different room in order to speak to his doctor. 

Eddie barks out a laugh, previous discomfort seemingly completely forgotten. “You won’t find anything that you’d like to eat in that kitchen, Waylon darling. You see, you and I are both on diets—your orders actually. But you should have a box of cookies hidden somewhere in the pantry. For emergencies, of course.” Eddie winks at him.

Eddie looks him up and down. “I see that you found some pieces of your old attire, darling.” Waylon looks down at his outfit and then back at Eddie’s dress shirt and slacks. “It’s a shame really, we lost all our old wedding and honeymoon photos, but of course, that ghastly shirt just had to survive.” Eddie shakes his head, a mischievous smirk plastered on his face.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” Waylon raises an eyebrow and Eddie lets out another bark of laughter.

“Oh, we hardly have time to go through the long list of offenses that your outfit is currently committing. Come on, we have to leave. Your doctor is expecting us.”


	2. Car Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember in the first chapter when Eddie explained that Waylon has had some false memories in the past? You’re going start seeing them in this chapter, so just a heads up that those will venture outside of the original Outlast Mount Massive narrative. Also, from here on out I’m going to write in present tense, since I decided I prefer that tense for this story.
> 
> This chapter is shorter than the rest of them, but hopefully you guys will still enjoy it! Thank you for the kudos and the reviews- they were much appreciated!

As Waylon and Eddie pull out of the driveway and away from the house, Waylon finally takes in their enormous home. He knew it was large from wandering around throughout the inside, but he didn’t think it was this big. “So,” he starts, “what exactly do we both do that we can afford this place? I know you said I worked for Murkoff, and you mentioned something about owning a shop?”

Eddie glances between Waylon and the road as he drives through their neighborhood. “Well, you don’t work for Murkoff anymore, darling. You haven’t ever since the accident.”

“Oh, so this is all money from the lawsuit.” Waylon looks pleased at himself for unraveling at least one mystery of his life, but his satisfaction is short lived, as it is quickly displaced by a snort from Eddie. 

“Hardly. Murkoff taking responsibility for their actions and actually paying restitution for an employee harmed on their premises? Please.” Eddie frowns, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“So I take it you were never a big fan of me working for Murkoff?”

“I was not, and it took you years to realize why. You were always too good for that place, Waylon. The only bright side to the accident is that it finally persuaded you to get out of there, which is something that I’ve been attempting to do for years.” Eddie snorts again. “Your loving husband pleads with you for years to leave the company, and you refuse. If I had known all it would have taken was an elevator malfunction, I would’ve ensured your departure from that reprehensible corporation years ago.”

Waylon looks at Eddie with wide, horrified eyes. Eddie cringes and covers his mouth. “Oh god-that was supposed to be a joke! I am so incredibly sorry, Waylon, I shouldn’t make light of such horrific matters. I truly am sorry..." Eddie gives Waylon a guilty look, his fists tightening their hold on the steering wheel. "Can you forgive me?” 

Waylon sinks down in his seat, overwhelmed by the intensity of Eddie’s pleading gaze. “Of-of course. No harm done, right?” Waylon gives Eddie a shaky smile, which Eddie responds to by exhaling a long sigh of relief. Waylon can still feel Eddie's calculating eyes on him, so he turns to stare out the window to distract himself. “So where do I work now?” Waylon asks, an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“From home. You do free-lance work mostly. All technical jargon that I don’t understand at all, I’m sure. But you make better money than you ever made at Murkoff. You’re very good at what you do.” Eddie keeps his face towards the road, but looks at Waylon with a proud smile through his peripheral vision. 

“And what do you do? I take it you do some type of garment repair? Since you said I brought my mother’s wedding dress to you.” Waylon sits back up in his seat, genuinely curious to hear more about Eddie’s life. 

Eddie smirks at this. “Not anymore, darling. While I do still own and operate my former tailor business, I’ve been busy with other business ventures since then.”

“Like what?” Waylon quirks an eyebrow at Eddie.

“I would tell you to check the tag of your clothing, but there is no way that god-forsaken shirt came from my clothing line. Typically though, all the clothes in our closet are from my line. Gorgeous stuff, if I do say so myself.” Eddie shifts in his seat, sitting a little taller.

Oh, so that explains waking up in that extravagant set of pajamas. “Do I typically like wearing your clothes?”

“Hmm… Well, something had to be done for your sense of fashion, my dear. It’s endearing, really, but we’ve found it’s better if I take charge of the artistic decisions in our house. But you’ve never seemed to mind so far.” Eddie takes a moment to glare at Waylon’s shirt once more. “Although, I was unaware that you had kept that unsightly number.” Eddie chuckles. “Anyway, I need to get gas a moment. Sit tight for a moment, darling.” The car pulls over and Eddie slides out of his seat. 

Waylon stares out the window, absentmindedly watching as Eddie pushes some buttons on the pump. For a moment, he finds himself staring at the how Eddie’s slacks hug his behind. Waylon realizes that he is ogling Eddie’s ass, and he blushes and immediately looks away. ‘It makes sense that I’d be attracted to him—we’re married.’ Waylon tells himself firmly, willing himself to stop being embarrassed over his attraction for the man. Waylon is surprised out of his thoughts by the sound of Eddie’s cellphone going off. He picks up the device and sees **Miles calling** dance across the screen in bright letters. Waylon frowns, a line appearing between his eyebrows. Why did the name Miles sound so familiar? The phone continues to ring a few more times, before becoming silent once again. The phone then jingles as a notification for a voicemail pops up on the screen, followed by several texts.

**Waylon isn’t answering his phone—he with you?**

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**Chris and I are on our way to your house to drop off the lawn furniture that he let us borrow**

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**We might be bringing pie**

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A moment later and **We are definitely bringing pie** flashes across the screen

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Waylon jumps in his seat, alarmed by the sudden sound of the door opening and Eddie plopping himself into his seat. Waylon looks at Eddie for a moment, face red in embarrassment of being caught looking at his phone, before admitting, “Sorry, I was looking at your text messages. Some guy named Miles tried to call you.”

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If Eddie is upset with Waylon for snooping, he certainly doesn’t show it. He looks at Waylon’s blushed cheeks and red ears and the corners of his mouth turn up. He looks down at his phone. “Ugh! I knew that little cretin was responsible for our disappearing lawn furniture! And now he’s trying to ruin our diets by bringing pie…” Eddie's smile is instantly replaced by a scowl and he looks genuinely angry as he begins texting back. 

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“So I take it that you and this guy aren’t friends?” Waylon ventures.

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“You’d be right,” Eddie deadpans. “Miles is your friend, Waylon, has been since you two were kids, much to my disdain. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not a bad person, he’s just… Crass. And dim-witted. And uncultured.” Eddie pauses and nods his head. “Yeah, I think that pretty much sums up Miles.”

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_“Miles! Miles!? Speak to me, please!” Waylon begs as he grabs at Mile’s lifeless hand. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening!” There is so much blood. Waylon didn’t even know that a human body could contain this much blood, and now his hands are soaked in it, trying desperately to prevent his best friend from losing any more._

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_“I’m sorry, darling, I really am. I didn’t want to do this, but he left me no choice.” Waylon’s head whips towards the source of the sound. Eddie stands there with a bloody butcher’s knife in his hand. “He was trying to come between us. You have to understand, I did this for us…”_

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_Hot tears run down Waylon’s face. Waylon turns back to the body and begins shaking Miles, eyes wide and frantic. “Miles! You can’t die- you can’t! Wake up, dammit!”_

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_Waylon clutches onto the body and begins sobbing. Eddie approaches him and puts his hand on Waylon’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss the back of Waylon’s head. “There, there, darling. It’s not your fault.”_

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_Waylon cries for a few moments more, deep gut wrenching sobs, before turning around and glaring at Eddie. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? H-How could you?!”_

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_“I won’t apologize for doing what’s necessary, love. I just won’t. He was trying to take you away from me.” Eddie looks at Mile’s body, face twisted with disgust. “He got what he deserved.”_

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_Waylon stares at Eddie, looking absolutely horrified. He brings a shaking hand to his mouth, stating, “I-I think I’m going to be sick…”_

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_Eddie moves to stand behind Waylon, rubbing gentle circles onto Waylon’s back as he heaves the contents of his stomach onto the bloodied ground. “My poor darling, too pure for this world. I’m so sorry that you had to see any of this. In time though, you’ll learn that this was for your own good. If Miles had gotten his way, he would have stolen you away from me, and soiled that purity.”_

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_Waylon wipes his mouth across his arm. “He wasn’t trying to steal me away from you!” He shouts. “Miles was my best friend, a-and you killed him!”_

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“Darling, you’ve gone pale? Are you alright? Waylon?” Eddie’s concerned face hovers in front of Waylon’s, snapping him out of his memory. 

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Waylon blinks. “Yeah-yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just not feeling too well is all…” What the fuck _was_ that?

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Eddie looks uneasy. “Are you sure? If this is too much for you, then we can go home. We don’t have to go to the doctor’s right now if you’re not feeling up to it.”

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“No, really, I’m okay. And I want to go to the doctor today. I think it would be good for me to go.” Waylon pauses and brings a hand to his forehead. “I think this diet is getting to me or something. I’m feeling a bit lightheaded.” 

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Eddie brows draw together as he observes Waylon. “You’re sure? We can always go grab a bite to eat and then schedule an appointment with doctor Trager another day.”

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“I’m sure, I promise.” Waylon says, nodding eagerly. They sit in silence as Waylon attempts to analyze what he just saw. It couldn't have been real... There's no way. Eddie did say that sometimes his brain fabricates false memories. Waylon opens his mouth, thinking that maybe he should explain his dream to the man, but clamps it shut instead. He decides that he can wait to share this information with Eddie until after he has gotten to know the man a little bit better. Maybe it was the strange memories, but he can't get over this nagging feeling that something about Eddie doesn't feel right. Since the moment he met the guy, his gut has consistently warned him to be careful around him. Waylon notices Eddie nervously chewing his lips. 'Probably debating whether we should turn the car around and go back.' He tries to think of something to say to change the subject before Eddie decides the trip the doctor is too much for him to handle right now. “So, who is Chris?”

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“Hmm?” Eddie questions as he starts up the car.

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“That Miles guy said he was going to come over with. Chris. Who is that?”

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“Oh, that’s Mile’s current boyfriend. Decent enough guy. I actually find him much preferable to Miles—I’m not sure what Chris sees in that boy.”

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“So what did you tell Miles? About coming over, I mean?”

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“That now isn’t a good time, Waylon.” Eddie glances at Waylon, head tilted to the side and frowning, looking confused as to why Waylon was even asking him this. 

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“Wait, why not?”

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“Well, for one thing, we are about to go see your doctor for your traumatic brain injury. So yeah, probably not the best time to hang out with good old Miles.” 

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“But maybe when we get back?”

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“Waylon. What don’t you understand about traumatic brain injury and memory loss? Now isn’t the time to hang out with your lowbred friend.” Eddie snaps. 

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Waylon can tell that Eddie is becoming annoyed with him, but he can’t help but push the matter a little further. “But what if seeing him could help me remember some things?”

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Eddie scoffs haughtily. “I highly doubt that seeing Miles would help your memory recall if spending the day with me so far hasn’t turned up any memories.” Eddie gives Waylon a serious glance. “It hasn’t so far, has it?”

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“No, not yet.” Waylon almost feels bad lying. Almost. “Miles has been my friend since childhood, right? You never know, maybe talking about early memories might be helpful.”

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Eddie parks the car and turns to look at Waylon meaningfully. “Darling, if you think it might help, we can try it.” 

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“Thank you, Eddie.” Waylon's mouth twitches into a genuine smile.

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Eddie shuts his eyes and begins rubbing at his temples. “I can feel the migraine coming on already.”

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Waylon laughs at Eddie despite himself. Eddie gives Waylon a quick smirk before getting out the car. Waylon follows suit and follows Eddie into the building. “So if Miles is a friend from childhood, does that mean I’ve lived here all my life?”

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Eddie frowns slightly. “No, darling, it doesn’t.” Eddie's facial expression appears oddly serious to Waylon, his mouth hardened into a thin line.

"Okay, so how long have I lived here for then?" Waylon is confused to see Eddie slow down and come to a stop in the lobby of the building. Waylon turns around and stares at Eddie, who is standing there staring at the ground with his hands in his pockets. "What? What's wrong?"

"Waylon..." Eddie takes a step forward and reaches for Waylon’s hands, holding them within his own. “In the past, we've decided that even though it's hard, it's best if I'm fully transparent with you early on, especially regarding your parents... It’s never easy to explain this to you.” Eddie sighs. “I’m so sorry, love, you actually moved out this way a while ago... After both of your parents passed away." Eddie brings one of Waylon’s hand to his mouth, leaving a gentle kiss there before meeting Waylon's eyes. 

Waylon is silent for a moment, his whole body feeling heavy. He finally asks, "How did they die?"

Eddie's hands caress Waylon's own, sadness clouding his features. "It was a car accident. A hit and run driver, actually. Your parents weren't in the best of healthy before the accident, and the accident was just too much for their bodies to handle."

"Did I... Did I get to say goodbye?" Waylon's lower lip begins to tremble as Eddie gently shakes his head.

Waylon’s brows furrow in confusion as he wipes at his eyes. “I don’t understand why I’m crying,” he sniffs. “I understand that it’s a terrible situation, but… I don’t actually know those people, you know? I don’t have a single memory of either one of them, so why?”

Eddie draws Waylon into a hug, tucking Waylon’s head under his own. “It’s a good thing that you’re crying right now. Even though you can’t consciously recall any memories about your mother and father, a part of you still remembers them and mourns their death. It’s completely normal, and you have every right to be upset, even if you can’t clearly remember them right now.”

Waylon nods. He stands there for a moment, simply allowing Eddie to hold him. It was comforting, being enveloped by Eddie's warmth and scent. It feels right, for whatever reason- like they are two puzzles pieces that have been waiting to be fit together, and for a second, Waylon could understand why he might have married the man. 

When Eddie releases Waylon he studies his face carefully. “Do you want to talk more about this? We can always reschedule our appointment with Trager." 

Waylon wipes at his eyes one more time and shakes his head, lips forming a thin line. “I'll be alright... I don’t really have anything else to say about it…” Waylon starts quietly. It was true. While he felt the emotions that would coincide with learning that one's parents had passed away, he didn't have any of the memories that matched. He felt disoriented, and was looking forward to meeting with Trager to hopefully gain some clarity about his life. “Thank you for telling me, Eddie, and I’m sorry for the waterworks.” Waylon steps past Eddie, and starts walking forward.

Eddie’s face scrunches up, as if in pain. He grabs Waylon’s elbow, stopping his movement. “Wait, darling. I don’t… I don’t like this.”

Waylon stares at him with glossy eyes. “What do you mean?”

Eddie looks like he is fighting back tears as he searches Waylon’s face. “I understand if you don't want to talk about your parents right now, but... I need to know that you know you can talk to me. I’m aware that you don’t fully know who I am, and I can tell that you don’t completely trust me yet, but I need to…” Eddie sucks in a short breath and exhales through his nose. “I need you let me be there for you… I know it’s entirely selfish, but I can’t just sit by and watch you struggle with everything all by yourself. It hurts too much.”

Waylon’s eyes widen slightly as he watches a tear slide down Eddie’s face. Eddie continues on, voice sounding strained, “Please, Waylon, promise me that that you’ll let me be there for you…When you remember unpleasant things, or your when you're frustrated and stressed... Please remember that I'll always be here, next to you.”

Looking at Eddie right now, eyes red and welling up with tears, makes a deep pang of sadness stab at Waylon’s heart. In that moment, Waylon feels like he’d do anything to prevent Eddie from ever crying again. Waylon almost shakes his head in an attempt to dislodge the foreign feeling, but instead squeezes his eyes shut and nods. “Yeah. I can promise you that. I don’t…” He opens his eyes and gazes at Eddie. “I don’t really fully get our relationship yet, but I can tell that this is hard on you too. I’ll try to uh-to open up and share a bit more with you.” 

Eddie’s wet eyes glisten. He looks entirely relieved. “I’m sorry, darling, I know we’re going to be late for our apartment, but can I give you one more hug?”

Waylon chuckles. This guy is just an over-sized teddy bear. He finds himself not only easily slipping into Eddie’s embrace, but wrapping his arms around Eddie’s large torso and squeezing slightly. Eddie returns the gentle squeeze and slowly lets go of Waylon. “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Waylon is about to ask whether Eddie meant the hug or the promise, but finds himself rushed to the stair case, Eddie quickly grabbing his hand and pulling him up the steps. “But we really must hurry. Trager doesn’t appreciate being kept waiting.” 

Waylon huffs as they begin to ascend the staircase, glancing side-eyed at Eddie as he begins to take the stairs two at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the 2nd chapter. I think this will end up being 11 or 12 chapters, with most of the chapters being fairly long. Let me know what you guys think. In the next chapter, we get to meet Dr. Trager.


	3. Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of an emotional rollercoaster for Waylon. They have have a little visit with doctor Trager. I’m going to point out that I am not a neuropsychologist, but I am aware that mood fluctuations are common when the brain’s chemistry is off-balance. Oh, and here’s the disclaimer that a lot of this jargon concerning brain complications could be inaccurate. Enjoy!

Waylon finds himself rosy-cheeked and winded by the time they make it up the fifth flight. He has to stop himself from sticking his tongue out at Eddie when he points out, not at all out of breath, like Waylon, that Waylon typically prefers taking the stairs over the elevator these days. They walk down a hallway together and open a door with a plaque on it that reads “Dr. Trager Neuropsychologist”. Eddie gives Waylon’s hand a squeeze as walk into the room and up to the desk. 

“We’re here to see Dr. Trager. Eddie and Waylon Gluskin.” Eddie explains to the women behind the desk. She smiles at them and then begins flipping through a folder of files. When she seems to have found the papers she was looking for, she looks back to them and asks if any of their information has changed since their last visit. Eddie shakes his head and the lady tells them that doctor Trager will be a moment and that they can take a seat until then. 

Waylon feels surprisingly nervous. He glances around the waiting room while he bounces a knee. The waiting room is empty outside of the pair and a random assortment of magazines littering the tables. Eddie must notice Waylon’s anxiety, because he places a gentle hand on Waylon’s bouncing knee and gives him a warm smile. Waylon’s mouth twitches into a smile in return. He’s most certainly still uncomfortable with Eddie, but he appreciates the larger man’s effort to calm him down.

“Ooh, I have an idea, darling,” Eddie explains as he crosses the room to a table covered with magazines in one easy stride, “Let’s take a quiz together—you’ve always loved these.”

Waylon is about to ask Eddie if he’s serious, because honestly, who actually pays attention to those quizzes outside of pubescent girls, but Eddie is already happily flipping through a magazine and searching for one.

“Here’s a good one! These ten questions will decide which type of love you should pursue.” Eddie looks to Waylon with raised eyebrows and a smile plastered on his face as he settles back into his seat, simply waiting for confirmation from Waylon to continue.

Waylon’s eyes dart between the magazine and Eddie’s excited expression, still trying to gage whether Eddie is teasing him or actually genuinely excited about taking a quiz from a Glamour magazine with him. He finds himself shaking his head and grinning as Eddie’s smile breaks into a smirk.

“Question number one. Which role is most important for your significant other to fill: A—they are always taking you on a fun adventure. B—they always know just what to say to cheer you up. C—they are constantly telling you how attractive you are. Or D—they are the sexiest person alive.” Eddie looks up at Waylon with hooded eyes and a smug smile. “Well Waylon, lucky you, you get all four, but we’ll mark you down as D for that one.”

Waylon’s jaw goes slightly slack. The lady behind the desk is openly chuckling at the pair, and Eddie is shamelessly enjoying the disbelief that must be written all over Waylon’s face.

“Next question. It is imperative that my partner A. Works out every day. B. Buys me lots of gifts. C. Encourages me to do my best every day. Or D. Spends lots of time with me. Hmm, what would you say, darling?” Eddie looks up at him, genuinely curious. 

Again, Waylon studies Eddie for a moment, still not certain how seriously Eddie is taking this quiz, before answering. “I think I’d say D.” He stops and reconsiders. “Is that what you think I’d typically pick?”

Eddie laughs, gently blowing out air through his nose. “Typically, by question two you’re already trying to pry the magazine out of my hands. But yes, I’d answer either C or D for you.”

Waylon nods as he absorbs the information, happy to hear that he doesn’t usually just go along with all of Eddie’s antics, not without putting up a fight, at least. He looks to Eddie before asking, “How would you answer for yourself?”

“Most definitely D.” Eddie grins at him, and Waylon is reminded of the fact that he still doesn’t feel totally comfortable with this man. Eddie is eager to spend time with him, too eager, and while Waylon can logically understand this sentiment, it still makes him uncomfortable, as Eddie is still essentially a stranger to him. He glances towards the direction of the front desk, feeling anxious once more for the doctor to come out and greet them. 

Eddie returns to the magazine. “Okay, which physical feature do you appreciate most in your significant other? A. Their eyes. B. Their muscles. C. Their butt. D. Their package. 

“Huh?” Waylon questions as he returns his gaze to Eddie. Even as he is looking at Eddie, he can tell that the lady behind the desk is listening in and giggling again. He feels his face go hot, and he knows he is probably blushing right now. This thought is confirmed by Eddie’s mischievous smile. Well, now he knows why Eddie enjoys these quizzes so much. 

Eddie tips his head to the side in mock innocence. “Well?”

Waylon simply glares at him before swiping the magazine from his hands in one fluid motion. His eyes study the page for a second before looking at Eddie again, his glare intensifies. “That’s not even a question on here!” Even as he’s yelling at Eddie, a part of him feels warm, relishing the welcomed familiarity of this game that is so easy for the two of them to play together. It feels like he has been cast in a play that he knows nothing about, but he knows his character, and he knows how his character would react in this scene. His mind is sending him a lot of conflicting messages about Eddie, but right now, in this moment, he is happy to feel at ease with the man. 

Eddie shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “These quizzes. They never know the right questions to ask.”

Waylon shakes his head incredulously. “So do you always take liberties with the contents of these quizzes?”

Eddie whistles a little tune as he looks up and away from Waylon, the picture of innocence. Waylon decides that two can play at that game. He pretends to scan the magazine in his hands once more and then looks to Eddie, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, here’s one for you. What do you think is your best attribute? A. Your hair. B. Your sense of fashion. D. Your body. Or C. Your sense of humor.”

If possible, Eddie’s grin grows. Waylon almost blanches. He was poking fun at the guy, but Eddie clearly took the question as a compliment. “Why Waylon, I always knew you were smart, but I had no idea what a quick study you were. And to think, you picked up on all of that in only a few hours.”

Waylon only stares at him, mouth twisted in discontentment. He’s about to tell Eddie that he’s picked up on a lot concerning what Eddie thinks about himself so far, but he’s interrupted when the door next to the front desk opens.

A man with long gray hair tied back into a low ponytail walks into the room, setting his spectacled eyes on Waylon. “Waylon, buddy, good to see you—although I wish it was under better circumstances. I guess I better reintroduce myself here, huh? The name’s Trager.” The man’s small eyes shrink to thin slits as his smirk skews his features. Waylon is taken aback for a second, not sure whether the man was overly friendly, or actually poking fun at his condition. He wasn’t sure what to make of Trager’s smirk. 

Waylon looks up to the man standing in front of him, one hand extended out to Waylon. His doctor is fairly tall, and Waylon would have assumed that he is frail, as the man appears very thin, but as he shakes Trager’s hand he realizes that the man actually has a very firm grip. 

“Welp, let’s get you into the back room.” Waylon’s eyes widen as the doctor pulls him up to his feet. “You too, big guy.” The doctor points to Eddie. “We’ll start with some basic questions about your morning so far.” 

Waylon looks to Eddie as they follow the doctor through the door and down another hallway, appearing somewhat alarmed concerning his doctor’s odd demeanor so far, but Eddie simply gives him an encouraging smile. They follow Trager into a room with a few odd chairs, a couch, and larger chair behind a desk.

“Take a seat, you two.” Waylon sits down on the couch, Eddie plopping down next to him, while Trager situates himself at his desk and picks through a few pieces of paper on his desk. “So let’s hear about your morning so far, yeah?”

Waylon looks to Eddie and then back at Trager, unsure if the doctor is expecting Eddie or him to answer. Eddie speaks up first. “Well, it had been a typical morning so far. I had woken up first and gotten ready, while Waylon slept in a little bit longer. I heard his alarm go off, and when I went to greet him he no longer knew who I was.” Eddie lips are downturned as he stares at Waylon for a moment. Waylon shuffles uncomfortably in his seat. 

Trager nods and redirects his gaze to Waylon. “How have you been feeling so far this morning? Any nausiousness? Headaches?”

“Uh, I guess my head hurts a little bit. It’s gotten a little worse as the day has gone on.”

Trager nods his head. “Yeah, that’s to be expected. Your brain is under a lot of stress right now, and you’ll probably experience some headaches in the next few days. I’m going to write you a prescription—just something to help you avoid too many migraines.” Trager scratches some notes on a piece a paper and then looks up at Waylon again. “Any other physical discomfort or anything of that nature that I should know about?”

Waylon quickly shakes his head. Eddie’s face perks up. “Well, he did have a physical reaction when I told him about his parents.” Eddie reaches over and covers one of Waylon’s hands with his own. “Even though he couldn’t consciously recall anything about his parents, he still started crying after hearing what happened.” Waylon looks at the hand that is still holding his own, wishing that he could remove it. While he appreciated the support that Eddie was attempting to supply through his gestures, he was getting a little tired of Eddie acting so familiar with him while Waylon was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that they were actually married. 

Trager nods and looks at Waylon. “As odd as this sounds, that’s actually a really good sign. Of course, it would be ideal if you actually started to recall memories, but that physical reaction is a sign that your brain is still housing these memories, and you actually are accessing them, just on a subconscious level. As hard as this all is, Waylon, the more your body experiences those visceral reactions, the quicker your memories will come back. Just don’t over-do it and over-stress yourself.”

Waylon nods and mumbles an “okay.”

Trager is still writing on his notepad. He doesn’t look up when he asks, “And what have you remembered so far today?”

Waylon nervously nibbles on the inside of his lips as he considers what to tell the doctor. He could be honest, and tell both Eddie and Trager that he’s had a couple of odd memories resurface already. He’d probably sound unhinged, but maybe Trager would be understanding, and perhaps even bring some light to the situation. Waylon starts to nervously twist his hands in his lap. How do you even tell someone that you’ve had a delusion about them murdering someone else? It’s not like he knows Trager or Eddie well enough to predict how they’ll react, and it maybe it’d be helpful to hear Eddie and Trager explain things a little bit more before he shares what he’s remembered. Waylon had heard Eddie mention something about Mount Massive while on the phone with Trager earlier, and Waylon was curious to hear what that was about. In the end, Waylon decides to take the safe route. It’s only been a couple weird memories so far, anyway, and he’d like to feel things out with Eddie and Trager more before he shares anything that may make them question his sanity. 

“Uh, I haven’t really remembered anything on my own so far. Just that first memory of Eddie, but he’s been filling me in on things, like my job, our life, our friends, and my family.” Trager gives Waylon a sympathetic nod and scratches down some more notes. 

“Are you sure, darling?” Waylon looks briefly at Eddie. He looks confused, maybe even a little irritated, but he simply sighs and leans back in his seat when Waylon nods his head in confirmation.

Waylon brings his attention back to Trager. “So what do you recommend?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Spend your time doing what you typically do. Hang out with Eddie, with your friends. If there’s any physical activities you enjoy doing, make sure to make time for those. Muscle memories are also extremely helpful in memory recall—they’ll only expedite the process. In the past, your memories have mostly been hazy in the beginning, but after spending some time with Eddie they come back relatively quickly.”

“So what is this, exactly?” Waylon’s eyes dart between Eddie and Trager. “I mean, what is the name of whatever I have? What’s my diagnosis?”

Trager sighs and shuffles through his papers. “Your brain trauma is extremely unique, Waylon. I’ve been researching your condition for the last couple years, and so far I’m not finding many other cases quite like yours. I don’t have a proper diagnosis for you yet.”

Waylon frowns. “Well which parts of my brain seem to have taken the most damage?”

Trager looks hard at Waylon for a moment. “Well, that’s the odd thing. Your hippocampus is slightly smaller than average, but it’s still very much intact, and outside of that your brain isn’t any different from Eddie’s over there. When you are recalling your memories your nerve cells and neural connections all function appropriately. We just can’t figure out what causing the misfiring of your neurons when you lose your memories.”

“There’s got to be something. When was the last time you guys performed tests?” Waylon nervously looks between Eddie and Trager. Eddie is avoiding Waylon’s eyes, and Trager just shakes his head.

“We did a full brain scan three months ago. The last one before that was five months ago.” Trager fixes Waylon with sympathetic eyes, slightly shaking his head. “I hate to be the one to break the bad news, but even when you think you understand what’s happening here, you’re only gonna be halfway down the rabbit hole.”

“What?” Waylon eye’s squint slightly in confusion.

“He means you should be less worried about your diagnosis, or lack thereof, and more focused on recalling your memories.” Eddie says, finally bringing his concerned gaze towards Waylon.

“Exactly.” Trager emphasizes this by bopping his pen in Waylon’s direction. “You shouldn’t be putting your brain under unnecessary stress right now worrying about your brain’s trauma. You need to focus on your memory recall. I need you to be working with me here, buddy.” 

_“I need you to be working with me here, buddy.” Waylon looks over his shoulder to glance across the bar. He sees a tall, slender man with long silver hair tucked behind his ears. The man is wearing a suit that Waylon couldn’t even attempt to guess the price of. He is shaking his head at a much taller and bigger man, wearing an equally expensive looking suit. Waylon stares for a moment as he takes in the other man’s broad form and dark hair. The man is slumped in his seat, eyes cast downwards, and cheeks pink. He vaguely recognizes him from other nights at the bar. Definitely not a regular, but makes an appearance with some frequency. Waylon’s never really gotten an opportunity to see the guy up-close yet, as the other man has always been busy with a larger group, and has avoided coming to the bar._

_“So I couldn’t help but notice that you’re here all alone over here.” Waylon swivels around to face the man who has just approached the bar. The silver haired man grins at Waylon as he sits on one of the barstools. “I have a question for you.”_

_Waylon smiles and quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah? Well, hopefully I’ve got an answer for you.”_

_Trager chuckles and then gestures to the larger man hunched in a booth across the bar. “And before you get excited here, buddy, I’m not asking for me. I’m here with my business partner, but he’s too shy to come over here himself.”_

_Waylon smirks. “Well that’s too bad. I don’t think I’m all that scary.”_

_“You’re not. Even though he’s a real go-getter, he can be shy.” Trager rolls his eyes, exasperated by his friend’s occasionally timid behavior._

_“Alright then, so what did this go-getter friend of yours want to ask me?”_

_Waylon scoots back when a hand shoots in front of his face. “First things first, my name’s Trager. My buddie’s name is Eddie. Your name is Waylon Park.”_

_Waylon is already shaking Trager’s hand when he hears the last part. He cocks his head slightly and furrows his brows. “How did you know my name?”_

_“Because, buddy, this isn’t your first shift that you’ve worked at this bar.” Trager shakes his hands in the air, as if shooing away any other questions Waylon might have. “Anyway,” the lanky silver-haired leans on the bar, inching closer to Waylon. “What are you doing Saturday night?”_

_Waylon is slightly taken-a-back. “That’s a bold question to ask for a friend. I might have plans.”_

_“I doubt it. You and I both know you’re usually stuck working the Friday and Saturday evening shifts here.”_

_“How do you know I’m not currently seeing someone?” Waylon asks, coyly. “Also, I am working the Saturday shift, so I guess I’m busy.”_

_The lanky silver-haired man gives Waylon a broad smile. “And look where that attitude has gotten you—single and working the weekend shifts. You have to be more like me, take some risks and go after what you want.”_

_Waylon’s jaw drops slightly. He begins to chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright. So let’s say I do take a risk. What are you trying to sell me here?”_

_If possible, the silver-haired man’s smile widens. “Let me sell you the dream.”_

_Waylon stares at him for a hard moment and then snorts. “Okay, I’m listening.” He pauses and then considers the fact that Trager knew his work schedule. “Wait, unless you’re some sort of stalker. How did you know I work Saturdays, too? I don’t remember seeing your face in here on a Saturday.” Waylon is mostly asking to be playful, but a part of him is actually curious._

_Trager stares at him for a moment, mouth turned downward and eyes small. “You’re focusing on minor details. Let me give you the whole picture here.” Waylon shrugs and Trager takes that as his cue to continue. “This guy is catch. Really. This is a great opportunity for you.”_

_Waylon gives Trager a disbelieving stare. “As a business man, don’t you think that overhyping a product can be detrimental to the pitch?”_

_Trager smirks and shakes his head. “That’s the thing, I can’t overhype this product—it’s the real deal. He makes good money, has a great career, already owns his own home, and even has a nice retirement plan set up. All he’s looking for is Mr. Right—which is where you come in.”_

_“You are really pushing this, aren’t you?” Waylon asks playfully._

_“I’m a closer, that’s who I am. Plus, I also happen to really believe in my product.” He gives Waylon a wink. Waylon looks at the larger man. He’s glancing curiously in Waylon and Trager’s direction. He makes eye contact with Waylon and smiles shyly before giving a little wave._

_Waylon feels his heart throb a little bit, overwhelmed by the adorable gesture. He brings his attention back to Trager. “So, what do you advise I do?”_

_Trager’s smile grows. “Just go over there an introduce yourself. Eddie’s shy at first, but I promise you that won’t last long.”_

_Waylon sucks on the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options. He figures he has nothing to lose by simply introducing himself, so he exhales a breath and makes his way over to Eddie. The man tenses up as he watches Waylon approach._

_“I’m terribly sorry if my friend was bothering you. He likes to stick his nose in other people’s business. It’s a bad habit of his.”_

_Waylon nods, feeling a little shy himself now that he’s seeing Eddie up close. The man is gorgeous—beautiful eyes, strong features, and broad shoulders. He must have not have gotten a good look at Eddie in the past, otherwise he would have noticed that the man was totally his type. Waylon thought that even his shyness was cute._

_“My name is Eddie. I’m sorry for the trouble.”_

_“Waylon. It’s nice to meet you.”_

“I see what’s happening here, you’re bored.” Waylon quickly darts his eyes across the room to meet Trager’s, who is eying him casually. Eddie’s eyes are full of concern.

“What?” Waylon shifts in his seat as he resettles in the present.

“You were zoning out again, darling.” Eddie explains. 

“I know that going through these basic questions can be tedious, but please try to bear with me, kiddo. I’m just trying to speed up the memory recall process here with some typical Q and A’s.”

“Oh, sorry…” Waylon murmurs.

“Has that been happening a lot?” Trager looks to Eddie, who nods. Trager sighs and sets half-hooded eyes upon Waylon. “Waylon, buddy... Is there something you’re not telling us here?”

Both sets of curious eyes are on him now. Waylon feels the urge to come clean, share that he’s had a few bizarre memories that he’s sure can’t be real. Eddie scoots a little closer to him, bringing an arm over his shoulders and whispers, “It’s okay, darling, you can share.”

If anything, that simply strengthens Waylon’s resolve. This man who is acting so comfortable with him—Waylon doesn’t know who he is—not really. He might find himself falling into comfortable routines with him, but that still doesn’t change this fact. And the doctor sitting in front of him, staring eagerly at him and furiously jotting down notes throughout the entire session—he doesn’t know this guy either. He doesn’t owe anything to either of them, and he definitely doesn’t have to share his delusional memories with them either. At least not until he figures out if he can trust either of them, and so far, that’s not looking great either. The doctor has been all but useless, and neither of them have attempted to explain anything regarding Mount Massive. It hasn’t even been brought up yet. 

“No, I’ve shared everything I can think of.” Waylon flashes a fake smile, one that doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes. Trager is smirking again as he nods, and Eddie sighs as he removes his arm from Waylon’s shoulders, bringing his hands to his face to rub at his temples.

“Everything you can think of, hmm? Okay, well let’s talk more about what you’re thinking. What do you think of Eddie over there so far?” Trager gestures towards Eddie, his smirk still dominating his face. Eddie’s lips are drawn into a thin line, and he’s staring at Waylon with an icy expression.

Waylon’s brow furrows as he briefly looks at Eddie and then back to Trager. “What do you mean?”

Trager leans forward on his desk, elbows propped up on the wood and chin resting on his fists. Waylon briefly wonders if Trager enjoys making him uncomfortable. “Just answer the question.”

Waylon speaks slowly, not entirely sure why Trager is asking him this. “I think he seems pretty invested in our relationship. He seems like a patient guy—I guess he’d have to be to deal with my memory loss and fabricated memories.” 

Trager nods and waves his hand through the air, stopping Waylon from continuing with his description of Eddie. “Okay, but do you think you two are a good pair?”

Waylon’s jaw drops slightly, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

Trager laughs and looks at Eddie. “He’s a little testy today, isn’t he?” He brings his attention back to Waylon. “Calm down, kiddo. Just humor me here.” 

Waylon glares at Trager, feeling himself becoming more and more agitated by the smug look that he has plastered on his face. “I guess so. We’ve been married for ten years, haven’t we?” 

Trager chuckles again. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ll have to take your word for that—I didn’t look that closely at your case notes.” Trager laughs as though he’s just told a particularly humorous joke. Eddie scrubs his hand down his face. 

“If you’d please, doctor, perhaps you could explain your questioning to Waylon.” Eddie grits out through his teeth. Waylon is surprised that Eddie appears to be just as annoyed by the doctor’s behavior as he is. 

Trager’s chuckles subside. “Ah yes, my point is this—you don’t know anything about Eddie, or your relationship with him. I can tell that you’re frustrated about the whole situation. Don’t feel like you need to rely completely on him to get a picture of your life. Figure it out for yourself. Spend some time with Eddie, figure out exactly why you’ve been married to him for the last ten years. It’s like the kids these days say, “cherish your yesterdays and live your todays.” Sounds like you can only do one of those right now, buddy, so you better live it up.” 

A lot of questions go through Waylon’s mind. Waylon wants to ask Trager how this advice is any different from what Waylon’s been doing so far. He wants to ask if Trager thinks his memory issues are a joke. He wants to ask to see Trager’s clinical license, but, ultimately, he decides to keep his mouth shut in hopes that this appointment will end sooner rather than later. He wanted answers, but he’s starting to get the feeling that Trager won’t be very helpful after all. Waylon bites his lip and nods. Trager watches him, analyzing him with unmasked interest. Finally, he scribbles something down in his notepad. He looks back to the pair and then abruptly stands up and makes his way around his desk. “Okay, time to go, buckeroos. I was able to pencil you in for a quickie, but I have another patient with an actual appointment in a few.” He ushers them towards the door. 

“R-really? That’s it?” Waylon is shocked. How did he end up with such a strange doctor? This appointment had been useless; regardless, Waylon is relieved that it’s over. If he’s not going to get any valuable information from Trager, he’d rather not have to put up with his company.

“Yuppers, I think I got the jist of the situation.” His hands are on Waylon’s and Eddie’s back, guiding them through the doorway, until he pushes Waylon forward and grabs Eddies arm, keeping him from leaving the room. Both Waylon’s and Eddie’s eyes go wide. 

“Actually, Eddie, if you don’t mind staying behind a moment. There are just some random details I want to go over with you concerning Waylon’s care.” Eddie quickly nods as Trager removes his hand. Trager faces Waylon, smiling sweetly. “Waylon, you don’t need to concern yourself with these details. Don’t stress it. Why don’t you head to the lobby and wait for Eddie there. We’ll just be a moment.”

Trager doesn’t wait for Waylon to respond, and instead swiftly shuts the door in his face. 

“Okay…” Waylon’s lips form a thin line. He momentarily debates putting his ear to the door, certain that they’re discussing more than just details concerning how Eddie can best aid Waylon in his recovery, but decides that he doesn’t care right now. He trudges towards the lobby, simply thankful to be done with that doctor and his stupid smirking face and his invasive questions. He opens the door to the lobby and surveys the room. The girl behind the desk is chatting animatedly on the phone, and another patient is occupying a chair next to the table full of magazines, idly playing a game on his phone. Waylon crosses the room and sits down in the chair he was sitting in previously. 

He shakes his head as he organizes his thoughts about Trager and the appointment. Why exactly did Eddie allow them to continue seeing this doctor? Waylon would suppose that he’d have to be pretty good at what he does to justify swallowing down his odd sense of humor, but the man wasn’t even able to come up with a proper diagnosis for him. It seemed like Trager simply enjoyed getting a rise out of Waylon, whether that meant embarrassing or annoying him. Waylon also considers the fact that Mount Massive was neither brought up or explained. How hypocritical of that doctor, to call Waylon out for withholding information when he was withholding important information from the very start. 

Waylon shakes his head and huffs as he picks up the magazine that Eddie had previously discarded in his seat, looking for something to lift his mood. He flips to the quiz that Eddie was reading from earlier. He finds that the first two questions Eddie had posed must have been made up as well, as the first question written in the magazine asks readers to identify their astral sign, and the second one asks about hobbies. 

Waylon is shaken out of his musings when the door opens and Eddie and Trager step through. Eddie is mumbling his thanks to the doctor and then locks his eyes on Waylon, staring at him intensely as he approaches the seated man. Trager smirks once more before he regards him with wave, bending his bony fingers playfully. 

Waylon curtly waves back. He stands up to leave with Eddie, and is surprised when Eddie grabs his hand, murmuring a, “Let’ go,” before dragging him through the door.

Eddie quickly directs them down the hallway. Waylon struggles to keep up with Eddie’s larger strides, but Eddie continues to pull him along sharply. When Eddie starts tugging him down the stairs, Waylon pulls his hand away. 

“Can you let go, please? Where are we going in such a hurry anyway?” Waylon crosses his arms over his chest in protest. 

Eddie spins around and Waylon is surprised to see the dark look in his eyes. “Back to the car, Waylon. We need to talk.” He turns back around and starts descending the steps at the same pace as before. 

Waylon knows he should leave it at that. Walk back to the car with Eddie and have a private discussion about their appointment. He knows he should, but…

“Oh, are you going to explain to me what that doctor told you after he pushed me out of the room?” Waylon continues down the steps at an intentionally slower pace than Eddie. He’s taking his time, leisurely making his was down the flights of stairs. Eddie’s not the only one who is peeved after that visit. 

Eddie is a half-flight below him, turning to make his way down the next flight, so Waylon is able to clearly make out the sour look on his face. 

“Or,” Waylon starts, “you’d perhaps like to discuss the fact that our doctor hasn’t even given me a diagnosis, and has instead chosen to tell me to “live my life.” Groundbreaking advice.”

Eddie is still speeding down the steps, but Waylon can hear that he’s starting to stomp a little bit. Waylon is guessing that Eddie caught on to the fact that he wasn’t completely honest during the session, or Trager told him as much. A self-satisfied smirk makes its way to Waylon’s face. He knows he’s being an ass, but right now, he just can’t bring himself to care. It feels good knowing that someone else besides him is frustrated by the situation, even if they’re frustrated for different reasons. He continues following Eddie, keeping his pace intentionally slow, yet not slow enough to lose sight of Eddie. He doesn’t know his way through this building, after all. He follows Eddie through the lobby, where people intentionally evade Eddie’s path. They walk across the large room, Eddie still far ahead of Waylon, until Eddie reaches the exit. Eddie swings the heavy lobby doors open as if they weigh nothing, holding them open and waiting for Waylon, giving him a heated stare. Waylon doesn’t speed up to hurry through the doorway. He watches as the tension in Eddie’s shoulders build as the man watches Waylon waltz towards him. Eddie is practically grinding his teeth at this point, and Waylon can see that the man’s chest is heaving as he passes him. 

Once outside, Eddie puts a hand to the small of Waylon’s back and rushes him towards the car. Waylon is about to tell him off, but catches sight of Eddie’s stormy expression and thinks better of it. He is beginning to regret antagonizing Eddie so much as they approach the car. 

Eddie opens the car door for Waylon and then slams it, heading over to his side and slamming that one too after he’s seated. Finally, Eddie exhales deeply and stares at Waylon. His eyes are narrowed and shoulders squared.

“Are you quite done, darling?” He spits. 

“Me?! You’re the one who just scared everyone in the building.” Waylon wants to laugh at the absurdity of Eddie’s question, but again, the look on Eddie’s face prevents him from doing so.  
“Well, pardon me for feeling particularly incensed after what transpired in there.” 

Waylon’s mouth falls open, eyes wide in disbelief and annoyance. “Are you kidding me? I’m the one who should be upset here. That doctor was useless.”

“That doctor, “Eddie starts, “is the best in his field.” Eddie’s jaw is tense, and Waylon can see a vein bulging in his neck. “Perhaps if you had been honest at any point throughout the session, you might’ve found the visit more helpful.” 

Waylon’s eyes narrow. “So that’s what he pulled you aside for? To tell you that he thought I was lying?”

“He didn’t need to tell me that—I was well aware.” Eddie is breathing heavy. “You promised me. You told me you’d tell me what was going on, that you’d let me be there for you. I can’t believe you told me that and then turned around and lied to me. And the doctor. I thought you just needed some time to warm up to the situation, but you weren’t planning on sharing anything, were you?”

Waylon’s stomach burns. He can feel the anger bubbling up in his chest. How dare they keep secrets from him and expect him to be completely transparent? “Okay Eddie, I’ll be honest with you. I heard you on the phone with Trager.” Waylon is too angry to smirk at how Eddie jerks back slightly, although he wants to. Eddie looks like he knows he’s been caught. “Want to tell me about Mount Massive? It’s funny, neither of you felt the need to bring that up during the appointment.” 

Eddie pauses and gives Waylon a calculating look. “How do you know about Mount Massive, Waylon?”

“Oh I don’t know anything about it. I just know that you mentioned it to Trager on the phone.” He knows he should feel ashamed of himself—embarrassed about eavesdropping on Eddie’s phone call, and his childish behavior right now, and maybe he does, a little bit, but whatever shame he might be feeling is overshadowed by anger. When Eddie doesn’t immediately speak, Waylon continues. “How do you expect me to be completely honest, when you two are intentionally keeping things hidden from me?”

Eddie looks pained. He is quiet for a long while. Waylon simply waits for Eddie to explain himself, anger still bubbling close to the surface. Finally, Eddie speaks. “Waylon, I am so sorry that you overheard that.” Waylon’s body reels backwards towards the window, moving as if he’d just been slapped. He was expecting anger, retaliation—not an apology. 

Eddie’s sympathetic eyes meet his confused ones. “I’m also sorry that you felt as though we were keeping things from you—and you’re right, we were.” Eddie combs a hand through his hair. “I’m not going to pretend as though I didn’t feel guilty, but I honestly felt as though this was the best choice of action at the time. In the past… Well, hearing about your Mount Massive delusion hasn’t always been conducive to your recovery.”

Waylon’s feelings of anger and bitterness are starting to wane, quickly being replaced with sheer curiosity. “Well, the cats basically out of the bag now. Wanna explain what’s so bad about Mount Massive that you wanted to keep it hidden from me?”

Eddie gives Waylon a long, tired look. "You seem to fabricate a memory of a sanitarium called Mount Massive. Not always, but that seems to be one of your most frequent delusions. We aren't sure when or where you've come in contact with something similar to this narrative, but it seems particularly… Gruesome. I had an inkling that you might’ve experienced one of these fabricated memories this morning, and had told Trager as much.” Eddie sighs and continues. “I really hate being dishonest with you, darling, I really do, but this delusion in particular… Whenever we inform you that this fabricated memory is a common occurrence, you take it really hard. You start to feel hopeless about your own recovery, and you end up pulling away—you become despondent. You act like you’re broken… But I guess by keeping this from you we still caused you to pull away.”

Waylon sits back and absorbs the information. “How… How many times have you kept Mount Massive a secret?”

“The last two occasions in which your memories were hazy. To be honest, it was my idea.” Waylon feels his heart sink. It’s hard to hear. He appreciates the honesty, but hearing that the man who claims to be your husband routinely keeps things from you is not an easy pill to swallow.

“Trager always thought we should tell you. He always said you were tough enough to handle it.” Eddie releases a short chuckle. “And he’s right, you are. But I’m not. It’s always the hardest to watch you struggle with that particular false memory. To have sit back and watch you question your own sanity. I will always be there for you, but I can’t stand to watch you lose your faith in yourself."  
Waylon nods. He feels like an ass for being so distrustful of Eddie and Trager. Mostly, though, he feels relieved. Mount Massive wasn’t a dark secret that Eddie had kept—he had kept the secret in a misguided attempt to protect him. When Waylon speaks, his voice is extremely quiet. “In the future… I would like you to explain Mount Massive to me. Right away. Trager is right, I can handle it.” He can feel his eyes begin to burn as he blinks back the tears. “I’m sorry that you have to watch me go through this, but you can’t protect me from my delusions. I have a right to know everything about my condition.” 

Eddie nods quickly, his eyes becoming misty as well. “You do. It was entirely selfish of me, and I’m sorry. I was just so scared… It’ so frustrating, feeling like I’m losing you over and over again. I try to be strong, but it does take a toll on me. But that’s no excuse for my behavior. I’m really sorry for my outburst. While I wish it wasn’t true, I do have a bit of a tempter. Work in progress, I suppose.” He gives Waylon a sheepish smile. 

Waylon finds himself smiling. It’s nice to see this very human side of Eddie, outside of the put-together, charming person he has seen so far. As odd as it sounds, seeing Eddie get so riled up makes Waylon trust him a little bit more. He’s a person, an imperfect person, just as bothered by Waylon’s memory problems as Waylon is. So far, Waylon had felt as though he was the only vulnerable person in the situation, but he is starting to understand that Eddie is just as vulnerable here as he is.

In a moment of bravery, he brings his hand to Eddie’s face, softly caressing his cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I was a jerk.” He brings his hand back down to his lap and bunches them together on his knees. “I shouldn’t have been so distrustful of both you and Trager. I should have admitted that I’ve had some memories—delusions. Whatever you want to call them.” Waylon takes in Eddie’s appearance. His posture is much more relaxed, no longer rigid and tense. He’s looking at Waylon with sympathy and understanding. He no longer looks near as upset as he was marching through the building with Waylon moments ago. Still… “Are you mad at me?”

Eddie stares at Waylon for a moment before sighing and stating, “No. I understand why you kept your delusions to yourself. We were withholding information from you at a time when you’re still deciding whether we’re trustworthy or not. I don’t blame you for that.” Eddie reaches forward and rests his hand next to Waylon’s. Earlier, Waylon might have found this gesture annoying, invasive even, but now he appreciates the gesture as an offer of support. “I can tell there’s something you’re struggling with, darling, and I would like to help, if you’d let me.”

Waylon nods. “You promise you won’t think I’m crazy or anything? I mean, I know you told me that I’ve had false memories in the past, but if I told you what I’m remembering now, you won’t be freaked out, no matter how bad it is?”

“Never. It might sometimes be unpleasant to learn about the things your mind is supplying to you, but that’s solely because it pains me to hear how they burden you.” Eddie voice is strong and unfaltering.

“Ok, um, I really don’t know how to explain this without sounding like I’m not in my right mind…” Waylon stares at his lap, finding it difficult to meet Eddie’s eyes. “I told you that I remembered you—or a version of you, I guess—you know, with a lot of scars and blisters.” Waylon chances a glance to Eddie to see how he is taking in all of this. Eddie is nodding encouragingly, so Waylon continues. “I think you-he was trying to castrate me.” 

Eddie winces in discomfort, and then quickly explains, “I’m not repulsed by the fact that you had this fabricated memory—you’ve actually told me about similar ones in the past. I’m just saddened that you had to endure having such a terrifying memory. It must be painful. And very confusing.”

Waylon nods. He is surprised by how easy Eddie seems to be handling all of this, but he figures that he has had some practice in the past. “It is. It’s weird, because I had another memory about you, and Miles maybe too? I don’t know what Miles looks like, but I’m pretty sure that’s what I called him. And you didn’t have any scars or blisters anymore. But Miles, he was bleeding. All over. And I think you killed him.” Again, Waylon assesses Eddie’s demeanor, trying to gage how much Waylon has scared him, but to Waylon’s surprise, Eddie is simply nodding, taking in the information. “I think you were jealous of Miles. I don’t know.”

Eddie gives Waylon’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’m terribly sorry, that’s another horribly gruesome delusion to have to endure. But I’m glad you shared your delusions with me. As horrible as it is, this is part of the process. Normal, if you will. You don’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed for any part of this.”

Waylon bites his lip and looks away. For some reason, the first two delusions seemed easier to talk about. It still felt weird, admitting the bizarre things that his mind had made up, but the other memory was bizarre in another sense. Waylon was prepared to have some gruesome delusions—he was warned that it would happen, but this other memory felt almost normal. Of course it didn’t happen, but if felt like it was almost possible. 

“Actually, I had one more.” Waylon can tell that Eddie is trying his best to be supportive, but he does notice the flitter of disappointment that flashes across Eddie’s face. Perhaps Eddie was hoping that he wouldn’t have to listen to another delusion, or perhaps he’s saddened that Waylon had kept the fact that he had three fabricated memories from him. Waylon isn’t certain. “I must have been a bartender, and you and Trager were at my bar. I think you two were businessmen or something. Trager came up to me and tried to convince me to give you a shot. Said you were too shy to introduce yourself.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “A shot like a drink?”

Waylon laughs, some of the awkwardness he was experiencing fades away. “No, like a shot at a relationship.”

Eddie is silent for a moment. Waylon is almost worried that Eddie is legitimately upset, but then Eddie starts snickering. “Me? Working with Trager? Darling, can you imagine how bad that would be? We’d be too busy driving each other nuts to get any work done.”

Waylon laughs again. “I can’t picture Trager working with anyone. That man is something else. I’m not apologizing to him, by the way. He enjoyed that shit way too much.”

Eddie beams, clearly relieved that the conflict is behind them. “I know. He’s an odd duck, but he really is the best. Believe it or not, sometimes you actually find him enjoyable.”

Waylon’s eyes widen and he laughs as he shakes his head. “No way! I don’t know if I can believe that.” Eddie’s smiles brightly at him. Waylon recognizes the look in Eddie’s eyes as pure adoration.

“You want to know what the most absurd aspect of that delusion is though?” Eddie laces his fingers through Waylon’s. “I would never have waited for someone else to introduce me to you.”

Waylon feels flustered by the look Eddie is giving him—the corners of his mouth are quirked up and his eyes are gleaming with affection. Waylon is learning that he blushes easily, as he feels his face heat up once more. He smiles back at Eddie, feeling a bit more at peace with his life. He might not remember who he is or anything about his life, but at least he has someone like Eddie to lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I'm thinking Waylon and Eddie will hang out with Chris and Miles in the next one. Thank you guys also for the lovely feedback for the first two chapters :)


	4. BBQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting so long for this one! The only new tag I added for this chapter is alcohol consumption. 
> 
> Basically, Waylon learns a bit more about his life, and Eddie and Miles are assholes to each other. Chris is a teddy bear.

True to his word, Eddie agrees to have Miles and Chris over. Waylon is aware that this is a somewhat rare occurrence in his life with Eddie, and finds himself excited to have the pair over, even though he barely knows who either of them are. 

They decide to have the couple over for a barbecue. Eddie spends the morning preparing food in the kitchen, insisting that Waylon spend his time resting while waiting for Miles and Chris to arrive. Instead, Waylon sits atop the kitchen counter and marvels at Eddie’s skills in the kitchen, asking random questions about their life together. 

“So am I as good a cook as you are?” Waylon swings his legs from his perch atop the counter as he watches Eddie chop peppers.

Eddie barks out a laugh. “That’s rich! I’m incredibly sorry to say this, darling, but last time you tried your hand at cooking you nearly burnt our house to the ground. You are a man of many talents, but cooking is not one of them.” 

Waylon hums in response to this information. “What about baking? For some reason I get the feeling that I could make a mean cake.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “No, nothing could be further from the truth. Your cookies always come out burnt on the outside and raw on the inside. I honestly don’t know how you do it. And in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never made an edible cake.”

Waylon frowns playfully. “So, you’re saying I’m useless in the kitchen?”

Eddie looks up from his cutting board and smiles as he gives Waylon an exaggerated nod of his head. 

Waylon jumps down from his seat on top of the counter and looks at the array of vegetables Eddie has prepared to grill. He eyes Eddie suspiciously. “Are we vegetarians?”

Eddie walks over to the sink and begins rinsing asparagus. “Sometimes. When the mood strikes you to go on a diet, this is how we usually eat. Outside of that, we do eat meat occasionally.” 

Waylon nods. He remembers Eddie had mentioned a diet before, and had said that it was actually Waylon’s idea. He smirks before asking, “Are you sure it’s me who decided we should diet? It’s okay if you think I’m getting fat.” 

Eddie looks appalled. “I would never! Besides, the doctor mentioned that healthy eating can only help your brain’s recovery.”

“Suuuure.” 

Eddie sends a playful glare Waylon’s way, which only serves to make him chuckle. 

Even though their visit to Trager had only been yesterday, it feels like a lifetime ago to Waylon. Eddie and Waylon had spent the rest of the day poking around the house and discussing their life together. Waylon is starting to feel more a bit more at ease with Eddie as they have started to fall into some comfortable patterns. While Waylon isn’t sure what exactly their life together looked like before, he has to think it looked something like it does right now—Eddie and Waylon just spending time with each other, occasionally teasing one another, and simply enjoying each other’s company. 

“Here.” Eddie snaps Waylon out of his musing by placing a cutting board, knife, and a couple of tomatoes and mushrooms in front of him. “Far be it from me to keep you from experiencing your own cooking talents first hand. Why don’t you chop those up and then we can pop the skewers on the grill.” 

Waylon picks up the knife and playfully sticks his tongue out at Eddie. “I will, and then I’ll prove to you how not-useless I am in the kitchen.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. “Well I can at least be comforted by the fact that if you set this house ablaze we will have to rain check on this ghastly barbecue.” 

Waylon chances a quick glance at Eddie before bringing his attention back to chopping up the produce. He’s still learning about Eddie—when he’s joking and when he’s actually complaining. Eddie seems to be a fairly easy-going person, ready to get along with almost everyone. Except for Miles, it seems. However, a small smile is still adorning Eddie’s face, so Waylon assumes that he’s not too upset about having to entertain Miles and Chris this afternoon. But this brings up another question in Waylon’s mind.

“So why exactly do you dislike Miles so much?”

“Ugh, this again, darling?” Eddie continues stirring something in a saucepan on the stove. “I can only apologize so many times for disliking your low-brow friend.”

“No no, like I’m curious as to _why_ you don’t like him. Did you guys have a fight or something? Or have you two just butted heads since you first met?”

“We’ve just never gotten along. I suppose we just prefer to live our lives differently—different strokes and all that.” He turns to Waylon, slowly bringing a wooden spoon towards his mouth. “Here, taste this and tell me what you think. I’m renovating our usual wine-reduction sauce recipe.” 

Waylon continues to chop mushrooms, but opens his mouth as Eddie gingerly tilts the large spoon, depositing its contents onto his tongue. “Wow, that’s good. Like really good.” 

Eddie preens. “Thank you, my dear.” A moment later Waylon hears the clinging of dishes and turns to look at Eddie. He is reaching up into cabinets and collecting plates. Waylon watches how his muscles bulge and his shirt tightens as he stretches out his arms. He is wearing a short-sleeved button up shirt with a white floral pattern, khaki chinos on bottom, and has completed the look with boating shoes. 

Waylon gazes at his reflection in the window. He looks plain in comparison to Eddie. His blonde hair is light and wavy, but he hasn’t bothered to style it, so it looks a mess. He wanted to wear his plaid shirt again, just to have something that felt comfortable and like _him_ , but it was supposed to be warmer today, so instead he rolled up the hem of his ripped, ratty jeans into make-shift capris and threw on a white undershirt. 

“What are you staring at outside?” Waylon hears as two large forearms wrap around his midsection. He feels Eddie’s chin resting on the top of his head, nuzzling against his messy hair. He’s quickly learning that Eddie is a very tactile person. He must have been holding back yesterday. When they went to bed last night Waylon assured Eddie that he was fine sharing their bed, despite Eddie’s protests that Eddie would sleep on the couch. Waylon had reasoned that Trager had said that the best way to get his memories back quicker was to live out their normal daily routines. So, after Waylon had promised that Eddie wasn’t making him uncomfortable by sleeping beside him, they had gone to sleep. Waylon woke up with his body plastered around Eddie’s, arms and legs entangled around Eddie’s large frame. When Waylon had tried to pull himself away, he was stopped by broad hands and Eddie’s sleep-laced voice mumbling, “Just for a little more. Please.” Eddie hasn’t hesitated to touch him all day since.

Eddie presses his lips against Waylon’s neck, and Waylon blushes as he hears Eddie inhale deeply against his skin. “Nothing, I was just looking at my hair. I hope Chris and Miles don’t mind coming over with me looking like this.” Waylon chuckles lightly to indicate that he’s only joking.

Eddie seems to disregard Waylon’s words, and instead continues planting kisses on his skin, making his way up Waylon’s neck and behind his ear. He pauses and looks at Waylon’s reflection in window before rumbling into his ear, “You’re so incredibly beautiful, darling. Always.” 

Waylon can feel his face heat up, he doesn’t even need to look at his reflection to know that his cheeks are bright red. The hands around his stomach tighten, pulling Waylon in closer against Eddie.

“I’m trying so hard to hold back, I really am.” Waylon can feel hot breath and a baritone voice rumbling against his ears, making his whole body shiver. “I just never can with you. The things you do to me, darling…” Waylon feels teeth begin to nibble on his earlobe.

_Ding-dong!_

This time, Eddie’s grumbling voice is heavy with annoyance rather than lust as he pulls away from Waylon. “Damn it. The one time in Miles’ life that he decides to show up on time…” 

Waylon’s heart is still racing as Eddie stomps away. Waylon leans against the counter for a moment as he hears the front door open. 

He faintly hears a deadpan, “Really, you shouldn’t have,” from Eddie.

Loud laughter echoes through the hallway. “What can I say? Can’t have a barbecue without the beer. Now where is my little amnesiac buddy?”

Waylon turns around as he hears quick footsteps approaching. He only has a moment to take in brown hair and a huge smile before he’s crushed in a bone-rattling hug. He actually hears some of his joints cracking before the man let’s him go. 

“Waylon! Sorry to hear your memories are MIA again. I brought some brewskis over.” His juts his thumb over his shoulder towards Eddie, who is holding a 12-pack of Bud Weiser. “Y’know, state dependent memory and all. Maybe if we get you trashed you’ll remember that time that you and I got hammered and doused some tennis balls in gasoline and tried to play flame-tennis.”

Waylon blinks up at the man for a few seconds. He’s taller than Waylon by a bit, but still shorter than Eddie. His thick, brown hair is gelled slightly and pushed back and to the side, with a couple stubborn pieces falling against his forehead. He’s wearing a loose fitting baseball tee and basketball shorts. Waylon is relieved that peering at the man’s sharp features brings nothing but a sense of comfort and warmth. 

Laughter bubbles up in Waylon’s chest. “Stop it, there’s no way we did that!” He quickly looks to Eddie. “Right?” Eddie shrugs and then starts moving things around in the fridge to make room for the beer. 

Miles chuckles and pats Waylon on the shoulder. “My friend, I could write a book about all the shenanigans that we have gotten into over the years that you have begged me not to tell Eddie about. Seriously, a full-length, multi-chapter, long-ass book.” 

Waylon notices Eddie bristles as Miles gives Waylon’s shoulder a squeeze. Miles turns around and rubs his hands together. “Anyway, where’s the grub?”

“We were just about to put the salad together. Then we have some kebobs to put on the grill. Where’s Chris?” Eddie pointedly glances around the kitchen. 

Miles walks over to the fridge and grabs out two beers. He opens one and takes a long swig, then throws the other can across the kitchen to Waylon, who catches it easily. “Eh, he’s grabbing the lawn chairs out of the car.” He smiles brightly at Waylon. “Thanks again for letting us borrow those, by the way. Chris and I had a sick time at Red Rocks.” 

Eddie shakes his head, mumbling, “Yes, because I’m so sure that you asked permission before taking them.” 

Miles turns sharply towards Eddie. “Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask Waylon.” He pauses and looks at Waylon, a slight frown on his face. “Right?” 

This time Waylon shrugs. 

“Oh right, the whole hippocampus-going-on-strike thing. Meh, I’m sure I asked before taking them.” Miles takes another sip and then adds, “Probably.” 

Across the room Eddie grumbles as he starts putting the meat, tomatoes, peppers, and mushrooms onto skewers. Miles walks over to Waylon and swings an arm over his shoulder, huddling in close. He pops the tab on Waylon’s can of beer and lightly clanks their cans together. “Cheers!”

Waylon can’t help but smile as he echoes the sentiment and takes a sip of his own beer. He blanches slightly and coughs afterwards, willing the taste of the cheap beer out of his mouth. “Do I actually like to drink this?”

Miles cackles. “That’s a good one! Sorry buddy, but I couldn’t help myself.” 

Eddie approaches the pair and slips the can out of Waylon’s hand, placing it down on the counter next to him. “You can’t stand the stuff, but Miles here always thinks it’s a hoot to trick you into drinking it. Why, I’ll never know.” 

“Come on, Way, don’t you remember all those times in high school? Sneaking a couple of cans from my dad’s stash and drinking them in the garage? Good times, good times.” 

“Well, if you two are quite done with reminiscing about your past misdemeanors, let’s go outside to the back porch.” Eddie says as he ushers the two out the back door, the tray of skewers resting in one hand. 

Saying that the man Waylon sees reclining on one of the padded patio chairs on the deck is large would be an understatement. The man is enormous. Even sitting down, Waylon can tell that he looks to be about a good head taller than Eddie, who is already almost a foot taller than Waylon. Waylon’s eyes widen as he takes in the man’s enormous frame and thick legs. The guy appears to be made of muscle. When he notices the trio approaching he quickly stands and smiles. Waylon blinks as a meaty hand is extended in front of him. “Hello Waylon, I’ve been told that reintroductions might need to be made. The name’s Chris.” 

Waylon shakes the man’s hand, surprised by his gentle grip. He’s certain that if Chris wanted to he could break all the bones in Waylon’s hand with very minimal effort. “Hello Chris, nice to meet you.” He then sheepishly adds, “again.” 

Chris nods. “Likewise. And thank you for letting us come by, I’m sorry we pretty much invited ourselves over.” 

“Nonsense, Chris, _you_ are always welcome to stop by.” Eddie gives Chris a cheerful nod before giving Miles a disinterested glance and then steps over towards the grill and takes off its cover. Waylon wonders why Eddie seems to dislike Miles so much, yet oddly enough appreciates his boyfriend.

“So,” Waylon turns his attention back to Chris and Miles, “how did you two meet?” Chris sits himself back on the patio chair, quickly followed by Miles plopping down on his lap, the metal of the chair underneath them squeaking in protest. Waylon gives a sideways glance in Eddie’s direction, wondering if the man is going to chastise Miles, but he simply continues cleaning the grill. 

“Well, I met this hunk years ago when I stopped at a dive-bar trying to get rid of some guys tailing me.” Miles pauses to turn in his seat on Chris’ lap to wrap his arms around Chris’ head, smothering his cheek with a wet kiss. “And Chris here was kind enough to scare those creeps off. It seemed like a smart decision to keep him around.” Chris chuckles slightly and Miles plants a loud kiss atop Chris’ buzzed head.

Chris wiggles in his seat slightly, cheeks turning a soft pink. Waylon has to stop himself from giggling. This wrecking-ball of a man is _shy_. It’s almost too adorable for Waylon to handle. 

“Anyway, Chris was looking for someone to help him get ready for his competitions, and I was looking to lie low for a little anyway, so it just seemed like a good match.”

Waylon raises an eyebrow. “Competitions?”

“Bodybuilding.” Chris answers simply. Ah, of course, Waylon could have guessed. 

“Chris is very disciplined in his diet and exercise every day. He makes for a great gym buddy.” Eddie pipes in from in front of the grill.

Waylon pictures the pair at the gym together, everyone else of course keeping their distance from the intimidating duo, and stifles a laugh. Eddie turns to him, frowning slightly. “What’s so funny, darling?”

He’s about to tell Eddie not to worry about it, when Miles smirks and adds, “You should see them on their strictly cardio days. I’ve never seen two full grown men scare off a group of old ladies while speed-walking, until these two.” Waylon starts howling in laughter, Miles quickly joining him. Eddie and Chris simply look at one another. 

“Eddie,” Chris clears his throat, his face a furious red, “did you want any help on the grill?” Seeing Chris blush so deeply simply makes Waylon laugh harder. 

“Thank you, Chris, but I’ve got it covered.” Eddie seems well-versed in ignoring their antics. He doesn’t appear phased at all. 

Miles’ chuckles die out and he stands up from Chris’ lap. “Well, I need a new one.” He shakes his empty beer can lightly. “Anyone else?”

Everyone else silently shakes their heads. 

Miles sighs deeply. “Fine, but I’m not drinking alone. Come on, Waylon, let’s make you something else to drink.” Miles grabs at Waylon’s hand and pulls him across the deck and back into the house. He goes straight to the fridge and grabs a new can of beer. He sets it down on the counter and takes a couple steps before hopping up onto the counter, standing up, and reaching into the tall cabinet. “I’m pretty sure you guys still have some sour mix left…” He mumbles as he digs around the cabinet, periodically moving bottles and reading labels. “Ah ha, here it is.”

“Miles, I’d thank you to not stand on our countertops with your dirty flip flops on.” Waylon turns and sees Eddie entering into the kitchen, frowning deeply at Miles. 

Miles rolls his eyes and pointedly kicks off his flip flops, now perching on the countertop bare-foot. Eddie makes a choking noise. “That’s not what I meant! Just get down from there already!” 

Miles continues rummaging through what Waylon assumes is their liquor cabinet. “Not yet—where’s that amaretto that Waylon liked last time?” 

Eddie groans. “I’ll find it, just get your dirty feet off our countertop, please.” Miles hops down from the countertop and shoves his feet back in his flip flops. Eddie grabs a folding stool from besides the fridge and brings it over, unfolding it and setting it down. He climbs up and fishes through the liquor cabinet, climbing down a moment later with a brown bottle in hand. “Here.” He hands the bottle to Miles, adding, “Don’t make it too strong this time. The last thing his brain needs is a hangover in the morning.” 

Miles grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it!” Miles grabs a plastic cup, pouring in a little of the sour mix he had grabbed, then adds a bit of alcohol from the bottle Eddie had gotten down, glancing at Eddie’s back before dumping in more. Miles grabs a spoon and mixes the liquid together and hands it to Waylon. “Here, try it.” 

Waylon takes a little sip. He’s pleased to find that he likes this much better than the taste of stale beer. “It’s good—thank you, Miles.” He smiles pleasantly at Miles, who beams at Waylon while giving him a hearty pat on the back, almost making Waylon drop his cup. Some of the liquid sloshes over the brim and onto his hand.

Waylon licks the mixture off of his fingers, turning to Eddie, who is opening random drawers throughout the kitchen. “Is there anything I can help with, Eddie?”

Eddie pauses and smiles at Waylon. “No, darling, I’m just searching for our salad prongs. Not sure where they’ve gone to. You just go relax outside.” He eyes the drink in Waylon’s hand suspiciously. “Don’t feel like you have to drink that whole thing if you don’t want to.” 

Miles begins shoving Waylon towards the door, Waylon puts both hands on the drink to keep it from spilling again as he is pushed through the back door. “Of course he wants to drink it! I made it special just for him.” 

They walk onto the back deck where Miles reclaims his seat on top of Chris’ lap. Waylon takes the recliner directly next to their chair. 

“So I realized I never did ask why you had a group of guys tailing you?” Waylon asks as he sips on his drink.

“What?” 

“Uh, your story earlier—you said you stopped at a dive-bar to lose some guys that were after you. What did you do that you had guys following you like that?”

“Yeah Miles, tell us again exactly what you do?” Chris is rubbing Miles’ back and giving him a cheeky grin. 

“Hey, I get teased enough by Eddie, Chris, I don’t need it from you, too.” Miles sticks out his bottom lip and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Chris chuckles lightly, but continues rubbing Miles’ back. Miles takes another sip of beer and then answers, “So I’m kind of in-between jobs right now, but I’ve always just kind of done whatever has seemed interesting in the moment. I’ve done a lot of private investigation work, but I went to school for journalism, so I’ve done quite a bit of that too.” Miles pauses, a thoughtful expression crosses his face, “But the two usually end up meeting in the middle and becoming the same thing, anyway. You gotta go undercover if you want to get to the knitty gritty, and then sometimes it’s important for someone to shine a light on the dark underbelly of the business world.” Miles takes another sip of his beer and then peers at Waylon seriously from behind his can. “But you know all about that already.” 

Waylon cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Chris sits up in his seat, rocking Miles on his lap slightly as he resituates himself. “Miles, maybe don’t—” 

“I’m talking about your elevator accident, man. How Murkoff fucked you over.” Miles’ voice raises a few decibels, his mouth is turned downward in a scowl. 

Waylon nods, now finally understanding what Miles is talking about. “Yeah, I’m told it was quite an ordeal…” Waylon shrugs, not sure what else to say on the matter. It’s not like he actually remembers anything about it. 

Miles’ eyes narrow slightly and his scowl deepens. “I’m sure you’ve been told a lot things about it.” 

“Miles.” Chris snaps. Waylon watches in interest as the two lock eyes. Chris shakes his head slightly and Miles’ rolls his eyes and huffs. 

“Fine, I’ll drop it.” Miles grumbles.

Waylon’s interest is piqued at this point. “I’m sorry,” he starts, eyes darting between Chris and Miles, “but were you looking into the elevator accident or something?” 

Miles barks out a harsh laugh. “I guess you could say that.” 

“So…” Waylon says, but stops as he hears the back door open; he turns his head to see Eddie walking towards them holding a tray with a giant salad bowl with plates and silverware. “So, did you find anything interesting? It doesn’t seem like anyone is too fond of Murkoff.”

Eddie is putting the tray down on a glass table on the deck, but stands up and stiffens at the mention of Murkoff, eyes slowly trailing to Miles, giving him a disbelieving glare. 

“Oh my god, he brought it up, okay? Jeez, what do you want me to do when Waylon starts asking questions? Why don’t you just write me fucking handbook about how you’d like me to handle every scenario, please.” Miles stands up and takes a step closer to Eddie, until he’s standing in his space. Waylon knows that the two don’t seem to get along, but this seems to be something else entirely.

Chris quickly stands up and gently pulls at Miles’ arm, tugging him back towards their chair. “Just let it go.” He whispers. Miles allows himself to be drawn back to the chair. He plops himself down on Chris’ lap, exhaling deeply through his nose. Eddie quickly turns and tromps back into the house.

Waylon’s eyes are wide as he ingests the scene before him. _What the fuck?_ The group is silent for a moment, all besides Miles’ heavy breathing. Waylon is pretty sure he must be doing some kind of centering breaths exercise. 

Waylon wants to ask more questions, figure out what the hell he just saw, but as soon as he opens his mouth Chris quickly gushes, “I really like your pants, Waylon.” 

Waylon pauses, mouth still open, and looks down at his torn jeans. He raises an eyebrow at Chris as his gaze rises. “Um, thanks?” 

Chris laughs, a surprisingly airy and light sound for someone so big. “It’s just that we usually see you pretty dressed up. It’s nice to see you looking so informal for once.” 

Waylon scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, I don’t know, I guess when I woke up and didn’t really know what was going on I just wanted something that seemed a little familiar, y’know?”

Miles, who had been actively pouting on Chris’ lap up until this point, seems to cheer up slightly. He uncrosses his arms and looks up and down at Waylon. “You look like you’re homeless.” Miles smirks.

Waylon looks at his outfit once more. Eddie comes through the back door again, white napkins in hand. “For once, I agree with Miles.” He says, as he sets the napkins on the table next to the silverware. 

“Don’t listen to them,” Chris says quickly, “you just wear what you’re comfortable in.” Chris offers him a small smile. Waylon nods and smiles back, finding that he likes Chris more and more the better he gets to know him.

“God, you two disgust me with your overly sweet niceties.” Miles says before pretending to gag. He straightens up and looks at the two earnestly. “But I guess it’s important that at least some of us are good, nice people, because that’s certainly not me or Eddie.” 

Waylon’s back straightens, already on edge and ready for another strange fight between Eddie and Miles, but to Waylon’s surprise, Eddie simply laughs. 

“Yes, I’m well aware that Waylon’s my better half. You don’t have to tell me that twice.” Eddie leans down and brushes his lips against Waylon’s temple. 

Nobody else seems to bat an eye at the display. Not that Waylon considers Eddie being affectionate particularly out of the ordinary for anyone present, but he thought there’d be some awkwardness lingering in the group. Waylon finds that he’s the only one on edge—maybe that weird argument between Eddie and Miles is commonplace between the pair; they certainly seemed to brush it off fast enough.

Eddie straightens up and distributes salad onto the plates before passing them out to the group. They fall into an easy conversation as they eat, mostly comprised of Waylon and Eddie asking about Chris’ body building this season, and what he’s expecting competition to look like.

“We’re really not too worried about it.” Miles has a smug smile on his face as he gives Chris a hearty slap on the back. “Chris is stronger than ever, aren’t you babe?”

Chris takes another bite of his salad and gives Miles a half-shrug. “I dunno. I guess.”

“You guess?! Dude, after all those hours you've spent at the gym, and all those high-protein meals I slaved away to make you, how can you possibly just say _I guess?_ ”

Waylon and Eddie both give each other a quick look before looking over at Miles. “Wait, you _cook_?” Waylon asks, precisely at the same time as Eddie asks, “ _You_ cook?” 

Miles crunches on a piece of lettuce grumpily. “Yes, I can cook, thank you very much. Rather rude of both of you to assume that I can’t.” 

“Sorry, you just don’t seem like the type of person who would enjoy something as mundane as cooking.” Waylon responds quickly. 

Miles seems satisfied by Waylon’s answer, and then glances briefly to Eddie. Eddie is shaking his head as he answers, “I just didn’t think you had any valuable life skills, but apparently I stand corrected.”

Miles puffs out his chest in pride. “Damn right! And I’m pretty good, if I do say so myself.” 

“Yeah, you make some decent food.” Chris nods in agreement. 

“Speaking of…” Eddie stands up and walks towards the grill. “We should probably put a couple of the kebobs on.”

Waylon jumps out of his seat and races over to the grill. “Wait, you said before that I can prove how not-useless I am at cooking—lemme try grilling one.” He's starting to feel a little a buzzed from his drink, he thinks as he walks over. 

Miles snorts. “This should be good.” 

Eddie, Chris, and Miles watch in vested interest as Waylon puts one kebob on the grill. He adjusts the heat and waits. 

“Waylon, if you don’t mind me asking, where has this sudden fascination with cooking come from?” Eddie asks.

Waylon turns from the grill and faces the group. “I don’t know—I just can’t believe it’s something that I can’t do well. It’s like, part of me sort of remembers being decent at preparing food.”

_Waylon grabs the handle of the giant wok on the stove and gives it a little shake, stirring and mixing its contents. The smell of honey combines with the scent of soy sauce, and his mouth waters. The sound of the chicken, broccoli, and carrots sizzling on the stove top is suddenly drowned out by the sound of jazz music._

_He cranes his neck to see Lisa, eyes closed and swaying slightly, her long brown hair cascading down her shoulders._

_"Did you just get home?" He asks._

_She opens her eyes. "Mhm. Smells good."_

_Waylon nods and continues stirring. He hears the sound of a drawer opening and closing behind him, and then startles slightly as a fork appears above the wok and stabs at a piece of chicken. He watches as Lisa dramatically rolls her eyes back after she take a bite. "God, that is so good." She leans in and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for being literally the best husband ever."_

_Waylon laughs through his nose. "I don't know about that. It's not like this is hard to make." He gestures his head in the direction of the oven. "The chocolate molten lava cakes that I made, on the other hand..."_

_"Stop it, you didn't!" She quickly steps to the oven and opens it up. Heat pours out, but Lisa's eyes light up as they land on the two ramekins sitting in the oven. She lets the oven door close, turns around and promptly swats Waylon's behind, giggling. "We're such fatties, I love it!"_

_Waylon pretends to frown, looking down at the wok on the stove. "There's broccoli in here..."_

Miles is shuddering. “Dude, I almost forgot how creepy it is when you remember shit. You just zone out for a while and then phase back like nothing happened. Freaks me out every time. Also, your kebob is fried.” Miles says slowly, as he points towards the grill.

Waylon follows Miles gesture and frantically turns down the heat and grabs the blackened kebob off the grill with prongs, dropping it onto a nearby plate.

"Nevermind that, what did you remember?" Eddie is already standing up and walking towards him.

Waylon hesitates. How do you admit to your husband that your mind fabricated a memory about being married to somebody else? Although, it's probably not too much worse than imagining your husband murdering someone. Fuck it. "I was cooking with a girl. Making some kind of stir fry."

Waylon instantly regrets sharing this false memory. Eddie looks like a kicked puppy. 

"Oh, was her name Lisa?" Miles asks as he picks up his can of beer again.

"Yes!" Waylon exclaims, "how did you know?"

Miles takes a long sip from his can of beer and then crushes it. "'Cause you dated her in college. Maybe that was a real memory or something. There's no way to know." He stops and smirks. "Unless, did you burn the stir fry?"

Waylon pretends to glare at Miles. He turns around to to pick up the plate with the burnt kebob as he considers the memory. He's pretty sure that the woman had said he was her husband...

He frowns as he shows the plate to the group. “This is still edible, right?” 

Miles cackles and Eddie moves behind Waylon at the grill, reaching over him to put a few kebobs on. He readjusts the heat and waits a minute.

“Cooking is as much an auditory art as it is a visual art, darling. You need to be listening to the food as you’re cooking. Hear that sizzling? It means you need to flip it.” Eddie moves Waylon’s hand from his elbow, prompting his arm to move so that he’s turning the kebob on its side with the metal prongs in his hand. 

Waylon laughs, leaning his head back and tilting it up so he can look at Eddie. “This hardly counts as me cooking, don’t you think? This is basically you cooking, just with my hands.” 

Eddie leans in and kisses the top of Waylon’s forehead. “I’d say this counts as you cooking. Close enough.” 

The rest of the kebobs do you come out a lot better. As Waylon and Eddie plate the kebobs and join Chris and Miles, Waylon can’t stop himself from asking, “So, this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m always this bad at cooking? Not just when I've lost my memories?”

“Aww, that’s adorable, Waylon—you’re pouting!” Miles says while he chews a bite of meat. 

Eddie leans forward from the seat next to Waylon to take in the smaller man’s expression. He smiles at Waylon and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “It’s alright, Waylon, I promise you’re good at a lot of other things.”

“Like what?” Waylon asks, honestly curious. He has no idea what his skills and interests are yet.

Eddie has taken all of the meat and vegetables off of his kebob with his fork. He pierces a piece of mushroom and munches on it before answering, “You’re amazing with computers and you’re great at wooing people. Much to my chagrin, everybody around you ends up falling in love with you.” 

Waylon has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but his mouth upturns into a small smile nevertheless. 

“Ooh, quiz time!” Miles is smirking and looking between Eddie and Waylon, “Maybe some good questions can drum up some memories.” Miles leans forward and rubs his hands together. “So, Waylon, how many people do you think you’ve slept with?” 

Chris is in the midst of taking a sip of water, and practically sputters it out. He starts coughing and pounding on his chest. Waylon turns to Eddie in an attempt to calculate his reaction. Eddie is glaring at Miles, although the glare doesn’t have the same intensity as any of the previous ones, before giving his attention to Waylon. 

“You don’t need to answer any of Miles’ asinine questions, darling. This is also one of his favorite activities whenever you lose your memories.” He looks at Miles with narrowed eyes and wags a finger, but there’s no real heat in his admonishment. “Although, you should know better than to ask someone such private questions, Miles.”

Miles snorts. “Whatever, man, Waylon and I are practically brothers. Besides, I know that you and Chris talk about sex when you work out together. Don’t even try to deny it.” 

Chris is still coughing to clear his throat, periodically thumping his fist against his chest. Eddie makes an indignant squawking sound. 

“Absolutely not! I would never betray Waylon’s privacy like that!”

Miles rolls his eyes. “Okay, but friends are supposed to talk about stuff like that together. Besides, it’s not a betrayal of privacy if Waylon doesn’t care.” He looks back at Waylon. “Well?”

Waylon shrugs. “I don’t know. Well, I’m assuming Eddie for sure?”

Miles barks out a laugh at that. “Is he correct in making that assumption, Eddie-boy?” 

Eddie has his arms crossed over his chest and is purposefully looking away from the group, annoyed at the course that the current conversation is taking. “You would be correct in that assumption.” 

Miles waggles his eyebrows at Waylon as he asks, “Anybody else?”

Waylon takes in Eddie’s closed-off position on his chair and decides it's best not to ask about Lisa. He's still surprised that Eddie didn't push him to explain more about his previous memory, but the man didn't seem at all eager to talk about it as soon as he learned it involved Lisa. “I’m going to say just him.” 

“Okay, so before I answer that question for you, Waylon, let’s see if you can answer how many serious relationships you’ve been in?”

Eddie groans. “Must we? Miles, you are aware of how much I detest this game.” 

Chris is looking at Waylon with a curious smile. “I actually don’t know the answer to this one. When I met you, you were already married to Eddie, and you don’t talk about your past that much.” 

This seems to loosen Eddie up. He unwraps his arms from around his chest and faces the group again.

Waylon glances as the three expectant faces before him. “You guys are aware that I remember next to nothing, right?”

“Whatever, dude, just humor us. Take a guess and then we’ll tell you the right answer.” Miles says as he leans back and cozies up to Chris.

Waylon sighs. “I don’t know, three?”

“Eh, you were close. There’s Eddie of course, and then Lisa before him. You dating a couple people throughout high school, but nothing serious. Does that help jog any memories?” 

Hearing Lisa's name again dredges up a familiar ache in Waylon. He can almost picture the long wisps of brown hair and matching honey-colored eyes again, but the faded image in his mind’s eye disappears as quickly as it came.

“Lisa, huh?” Waylon tests the name on his lips, wondering if another half-memory will spring to life. Nothing does. “So how long were we together?”

“Probably about year. She was looking for something more serious than you were, but you guys ended amiably enough.” 

Waylon takes a sip of his drink as he considers this. 

"And I'm not sure if you two did the dirty. You always told me you didn't." Miles adds casually as he licks his fingers. "So if you were being honest, then I guess your number of sexy time partners comes to a grand total of one."

"He was being honest." Eddie states firmly.

“Whatever you say. Next question!” Miles announces. “What did you always want to be when you grew up?”

“An astronaut." Waylon is started to get tired of this game.” 

Both Miles and Eddie quickly turn to him with excited expressions. “Did you actually remember that, or was that a freakishly good guess?” Miles asks. 

Waylon cringes. “That was a total guess. Sorry.”

He tries to ignore how Eddie’s smile falls. 

“Oh, I have one.” Chris chimes in. “How did you and Miles meet?”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good one!” Miles leans forward, elbows resting on his knees on his spot on the seat next to Chris.

“Were you my next door neighbor or something?” Waylon tries.

Miles scoffs. “No! Our friendship’s origin story is way cooler than that! I can’t believe you forgot about this—Eddie and all the other boring details of your day to day life, I can believe, but how can you forget about your best-friend-for-fucking-forever?” Miles shoots a pretend glare at Waylon before continuing. “You and I met in Kindergarten. One day you and I both ended up in time out during recess, so we waited for the teacher to leave the room for a minute, and then raided the snack corner together. When all the other little jerks came back inside, we had already eaten all of the grapes and animal crackers. We’ve been besties ever since.” 

Waylon laughs and says, “I really hope I remember that one soon.”

Chris is laughing too as he adds, “You two must’ve been little pigs.”

Eddie shakes his head. “More like little delinquents. And I can’t imagine that that was Waylon’s idea.”

Miles smirks at Eddie. “Oh, you would be surprised.”

Miles shares a couple more stories of misadventures that they had in Kindergarten, causing Eddie to shake his head in faux-disappointment at each one, before returning to his quiz game. 

“Alright, alright, next question—who do you think runs the show in your relationship?” Miles asks. Waylon laughs and looks at Eddie sitting next to him, who is shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but has a fond smile tugging at his lips. 

“Uh, I guess I would probably say Eddie?” Waylon ventures. This time Miles, Eddie, and Chris break out in loud laughter. “What?” Waylon looks around at the group, waiting for their laughter to die down.

“Ah man, this game never gets old!” Miles exclaims, slapping at his knee. Chris nods in agreement. 

Eddie has laughed so hard he’s actually wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh darling, that’s cute, it really is.”

Waylon raises an eyebrow at the group. “You’re telling me I’m in charge?” 

They all aggressively nod. Miles chimes in, “Eddie might be more dominant in certain aspects, but you’re definitely the one holding all the cards. It’s always a good time to watch you realize that.” 

Hmmm, Waylon sits back and absorbs this information. He had assumed that the current state of events, Eddie planning and controlling the day’s schedule, was the status quo. “Wait, then why does it seem like Eddie chose how to design the house? And all my clothes?”

Eddie stares at Waylon, gives a pointed look at his jeans, and then looks back up at Waylon. _Ah, point taken_. 

“But anyway, I’m more than happy to take orders from you, Waylon. I might have my own ways of doing things, but I’m happiest when you’re happy.” Eddie purrs as he places his arm around Waylon’s shoulder. 

“Ugh, you two are so sappy sometimes.” Miles sticks his tongue out at the pair. 

Chris glances at his watch. “Hey babe, we should probably head out. Give Waylon some time to rest. He’s probably exhausted after everything that’s happened.”

“Yeah, just one more question and then we’ll go.” Miles looks at Waylon and asks with a genuine smile, “Who do you think proposed first?”

Waylon brings his hand to his lips for a second as he considers it. He takes a moment before he answers, “I’m thinking probably Eddie?” 

Eddie smiles proudly. “Of course it was me, darling. I knew shortly after we met that I was going to end up marrying you, and I didn’t want to wait around for you to come to that conclusion, so I asked you to marry me at our six month anniversary.”

Waylon’s eyes widen slightly. “Six months? Wow, little soon, don’t you think?” 

Eddie smiles as he shakes his head, Miles barks out a laugh and says, “Well you didn’t seem to think so—you said yes, after all.”

Waylon’s eyes widen even further, but he finds himself laughing regardless. He must be a slightly reckless person. “I did?”

Eddie gazes warmly at him. “You did.” 

_Waylon bites his lip as he nervously glances around the parking lot. Eddie had told Waylon to wait for him outside of the school, promising that he'd find Waylon after he finished football practice._

_Waylon looks at his reflection in the glass of the car he’s standing next to, bringing up a hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. He stands there and analyzes his appearance. He’s scrawny, even for a sophomore. And Eddie, well… Eddie is gorgeous. He’s six foot three and built. The guy has gorgeous black hair and a jawline that goes on for days. He’s also the captain of their high school’s football team, and that’s a pretty impressive feat for a newly transferred junior._

_Waylon, on the other hand, finds himself in a far less impressive position. Sure, he’s involved in extra-curriculars too—like computer club and writing for the school paper, but both of those activities make him invisible on a good day, and pushed around and bullied on all the other days. Although, it has been a while since anyone has bothered to pick on Waylon or Miles, much to their relief. Probably since the first time Eddie approached him in the cafeteria. A couple of kids had come up to the table that Miles and Waylon were sitting at for lunch, taunting the pair and grabbing at their bagged lunches. Waylon had been ready for things to escalate when one of them grabbed Waylon by his hair and pulled him off of his seat. He shut his eyes and curled up slightly on the ground, bracing himself for the kick to the gut that he knew was coming. He opened his eyes when moments passed without anything happening. His eyes widened as he took in Eddie holding Waylon's bully up by his shirt collar._

_“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of here. Now.” Eddie said through tightly clenched teeth, releasing his hold on the boy’s shirt. The three boys quickly exchanged looks and started speeding towards the door._

_Waylon blinked as large hand hovered in front of his face. He grabbed on to it and allowed Eddie to pull him to his feet._

_Eddie frowned as he hunched over slightly to brush Waylon off. “Why do you let those boys push you around like that?” He still sounded angry._

_Waylon’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to reply, but was beat to it by Miles._

_“Okay, first of all, I’ll be the first to let you know that neither one of us are sadists—it’s not like we’re just waiting around for those asshats to beat us up.” Miles said as he glared at the larger boy, but his expression lightened as he continued. “Secondly, thank you for stopping said asshats from breaking another one of my buddy’s ribs.”_

__

_Eddie’s eyes widened as he faced Waylon. “They’ve broken ribs?!”_

_Waylon shrugged sheepishly. What could he say? He was a walking target for guys like that. And he was fragile. He scratched his neck, uncertain of what to say next. “Uh, thank you though. I really appreciate you stepping in like that.”_

_Eddie still looked furious. He turned around and marched towards the cafeteria’s doors._

_Miles sat back down at their table, grabbing at his paper lunch bag that had fallen on the floor during the commotion and placing it back on the table. “Seems like a nice guy, besides all that unbridled rage. Seriously though, that kid needs to get help before he becomes the next Ted Bundy.”_

_“Miles, don’t be a dick. He just saved our asses.” Waylon grumbled as he sat back down on his seat._

_“Please,” Miles rolled his eyes, “he probably only stepped in because his unquenchable bloodlust spiked while he was finishing his sandwich.”_

_There were quite a few rumors about Eddie going around. The rumors were positive, for the most part. The kid had recently transferred to Leadville high, and was instantly added to the football team. The coach had seen him play for all but two practices before quickly naming him the team’s starring quarterback and subsequent team captain. He was aggressive and relentless, just the combination that the team was in desperate need of. The student population was very interested in him, specifically the girls, but Eddie didn’t seem to enjoy the attention. In fact, he rebuffed all the advances of his fellow students, lashing out at the more persistent students, claiming he just wanted to be left alone. This seemed to accentuate the student’s intrigue in him, however, as it painted him with an air of mystery._

_Waylon had already heard the rumors about Eddie before he had actually met him. They had run into each other in the hallway at the end of Eddie’s first week. Waylon usually kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him, wary of other students trying to trip him, but he looked up when he noticed a large figure blocking his path. Eddie had dropped his books, papers scattered across the floor as he stood and stared at Waylon. Waylon quickly bent over to pick up as many papers as he could, handing them over to Eddie before blushing and scurrying away. He glanced backwards as he raced down the hallway and noticed that Eddie was still staring at him, mouth slightly agape._

_The next time he interacted with Eddie was in the locker room. Eddie’s schedule must have been changed around, because he was added into Waylon’s 8:15 PE class. Waylon had noticed how the other boy’s eyes had been on him the whole time as they jogged around the track. Then, while changing in the locker room, Waylon glanced about as he changed in a corner, Eddie standing next to him, with his back facing Waylon, blocking Waylon off from the other students. Waylon always changed quickly. He knew that the locker room was a prime location to be picked on, what with the lack of teacher supervision. While he was thankful for Eddie’s presence as a deterant for other students bother him, he still changed as fast as he could. He grabbed his gym bag and went to walk around Eddie, heading for the door. That’s when the boy snaked his hand out and grabbed onto Waylon’s wrist._

_“Waylon, wait. I want to talk to you.”_

_“Okay.” Waylon shifted awkwardly on his feet. He really hoped it wasn't obvious that he had accidentally checked out Eddie's bare chest. “Go ahead.”_

_“Not here.” Eddie briefly glanced around the locker room. “Meet me later. How about once you’re done with computer club? I’ll come straight from football practice and find you in the parking lot. I’ll meet you by the North entrance.”_

_Waylon considered asking Eddie how he knew he was in the computer club, but decided against it as he heard the bell ring. Best to just nod and move along._

_So, here he is, rocking back on forth on his heels as he waits for Eddie. While he has no idea what Eddie could possibly want to talk to him about, he’s fairly sure he’s not trying to hurt him. Waylon turns around when he hears the doors to the building open, and watches as Eddie practically sprints over towards him, backpack on his back jostling violently back and forth. He slows to a stop in front of Waylon, slightly out of breath._

_Waylon waves awkwardly. “Hi Eddie, what’s up?”_

_Eddie slings his backpack off of his back and drops it to the cement. He promptly starts rifling through it until he pulls out a piece of paper, handing it to Waylon._

_Waylon looks at the white paper, a flier, he realizes. It’s a promotion for a local dojo._

_Waylon looks up at Eddie and notices a subtle pink tinge to his cheeks._

_“I wanted to ask you if you’d like to check out a few classes there with me. It’d be my treat.” Eddie is smiling down at him, face full of nervous excitement._

_Waylon is speechless. He looks back and forth between Eddie and flier a couple times. Finally, he thinks he’s figured out what Eddie’s doing. His eyes narrow. “Listen, if this is some kind of joke—”  
_

_Eddie quickly shakes his head and waves his hands in the air in front of him. “No no! I promise! I wanted to go, and I noticed that you could use some self-defense skills, so I thought it’d be fun if we went together.”_

_Waylon is still eyeing him suspiciously as Eddie pulls out another flier from his backpack. Waylon notices that Eddie’s hand is shaking slightly as he hands it over to Waylon._

_Waylon has seen these fliers tacked up all over school—it’s a flier for the Fall formal. He looks up at Eddie with a quirked eyebrow to see Eddie scratching his cheek and staring at the ground. “Um, don’t feel obligated or anything…” Eddie starts, “but, I also wanted to ask if you’d want to go to the dance with me?” Eddie’s shoulders are raised as he finally meets Waylon’s eyes, teeth nervously chewing on his bottom lip._

_Waylon’s mouth drops opens. He looks down at the fliers in his hand and then back at Eddie. “Look,” He says, “I really appreciate what you did for me and my buddy in the cafeteria, but I don’t need anyone’s pity. You’re already popular, so you don’t need to rake up nice-guy points by hanging out with the nerds.”_

_He tries to hand the fliers back to Eddie, but Eddie’s hands don’t reach to take it back from him. Waylon watches as Eddie wrings his hands together. “So is that a no?” Eddie’s asks, lips trembling slightly._

_Something about watching Eddie look so sullen feels horribly wrong to Waylon. It’s not just his size—Waylon’s never been one to ascribe to hegemonic masculinity, so he’s always believed that men—all men—should be able to express their feelings. No, there’s something else—some part of Waylon that feels deeply hurt watching Eddie looking so upset. “I’m sorry, you were serious.”_

_“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice cracks slightly. “I’m sorry if I’ve behaved in any way that would lead you to believe that I wasn’t.”_

_Waylon quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s totally not you—once you’re picked on often enough you just learn to expect it. But it was shitty of me to assume the worst of you when I don’t really know you.”_

_Eddie smiles slightly. “You’re right, we don’t really know each other.” He sticks out his slightly shaky hand to Waylon who slowly brings his hand towards Eddie’s. They shake hands as Eddie explains. “My name is Eddie Gluskin, I’m new here, I play quarterback for our football team, I like to knit in my free time, and I get butterflies in my stomach every time I look at you, and I’d love it if we could get to know each other better.”_

_Waylon feels his whole body heat up. He’s still holding on to Eddie’s hand. “Well, my name is Waylon Park, and I’m sort of a nobody, but—”_

_“You’re not a nobody.” Eddie quickly interjects, frowning. “As soon as I laid eyes on you, I knew you were somebody important.”_

_Waylon feels like he’s going to walk away from this conversation with a permanent blush on his face. “Okay, then I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t have a lot of friends here, so I’m definitely not against making more…” His eyes dart up to meet Eddie’s. “So yeah, I think it’d be really fun to take some lessons with you. And yeah, the dance thing too… As long as you don’t mind me being a terrible dancer.”_

_Eddie beams at him. “Not at all.” Waylon’s eyes widen as he watches Eddie swipe at a tear running down his face._

_“Sorry,” Eddie says, rubbing at his eyes, “I’m just really happy. I’ve been really nervous about talking to you since I first saw you.”_

“You cried when you asked me to marry you, didn’t you?” Waylon asks. Eddie, Miles, and Chris are all staring at him with nervous expressions. “What?”

Eddie’s hand is on his cheek, his eyes staring down at him with concern. “Did you remember something, Waylon?” 

"Please say it was about Eddie. It's obnoxious watching him sulk when your mind fabricates memories that aren't about him. Miles says.

Waylon looks up at Eddie and nods. “I did remember something, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a real memory.” He catches a flash of disappointment flitter across Eddie’s face. “But it was still a pretty happy memory?” He adds on lamely. 

Eddie perks right up. “Really? What was it?”

Miles stands up and turns around to pull Chris to his feet. “Ugh, I sense things are about to get sappy around here again. Time to go!” Chris lets Miles help pull him from his seat, even though he could have easily gotten up by himself. 

"You're leaving? Already?" Waylon whines. While he found Miles' pop quiz obnoxious, he still enjoyed having Chris and Miles with them. 

Miles approaches Waylon and bends over to give him a bear hug. "Yeah, Chris is right. You've already spaced out a couple times today, it's time for us to go and let you rest." He gestures with is head in Eddie's direction. "Besides, me and your husband can only tolerate to be in each other's presence for so long. Best if we don't push it." He smirks and blows a kiss at Eddie. "See ya later, Eddie-boy. Thanks for the food. We'll just let ourselves out." He turns and starts pulling Chris across the porch and towards the driveway.

Chris turns his head and nods at Waylon and Eddie, adding, “Thank you for having us, both of you. Everything was delicious. Eddie, I’ll see you tomorrow at six am for leg day!”

Eddie smiles at Chris, “Of course, I’ll see you then.” 

Waylon has a soft smile on his face as he waves goodbye to the pair, watching as the two walk away holding hands. It was actually a lot of fun getting to know the both of them. Eddie resituates himself on the recliner so that he's sprawled out besides Waylon, moving so his body is facing him. “Now, do you mind telling me about this memory?”

“Sure.” Waylon’s stomach tightens slightly. He’s still not used to this feeling. It’s a weird combination of feeling extremely vulnerable and horribly embarrassed. He’s hoping sharing these fabricated memories will become easier with time. “You and I were in high school. You, uh, you protected me from some bullies and then asked me to a dance.” 

Eddie’s eyes soften as he stares at Waylon. “Really?” Waylon swears it’s the same exact hopeful expression the Eddie from his fake memory wore. 

Waylon fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “It’s just really weird. It’s a really clear memory. It feels really real. But… I know that that didn’t actually happen…”

Eddie smiles and gently grabs Waylon’s hand. “No, it didn’t. But maybe there’s a reason that your mind is supplying you with this idea? How did this memory make you feel?”

Waylon blushes, feeling silly. “I don’t know—really happy, I guess. It felt like you and I were about to start somethings special, and that felt… Nice.”

Eddie hums in response and squeezes Waylon’s hand. “I have a theory. In the past, you’ve had a lot of unpleasant memories, particularly when you first lose your actual memories. I believe that this is your mind dealing with the stress that you’re under at these times. You find yourself alone with a man that you don’t believe you’ve met before, so your mind, in an attempt to help you process and work through this mistrust, gives you memories that match this current set of emotions. Usually, though, your memories begin to take a more positive turn before you get your memories back.” Eddie pulls Waylon into a firm embrace. “I’m glad you told me about this memory, darling, it’s a sign that you’re getting closer to getting your memories back.”

Waylon finds himself nodding as he nuzzles his head against Eddie’s chest. It’s odd how unnerved he feels after experiencing his false memories, but it’s even odder how comforted he is by Eddie already, even though he was practically a stranger just yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, Red Rocks is this really cool venue outside of Denver—it’s basically an open-air amphitheater that hosts lots of sweet concerts, and lots of people will camp out in the area (in case any of you were wondering what Miles was talking about). Second thing—I don’t know why, but I had this strong urge to write Chris as this giant sweetheart. Maybe because I imagine Miles to be sort of all over the place—like funny, but sort of an asshole too, so I think Chris would have to be really sweet and chill to put up with him. Also, even though he was brutal in his pursuit of Miles in the game, ultimately he had good intentions—trying to prevent Miles from becoming the next Walrider.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you guys liked it. I have a couple other chapters written that I'll post if people enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading!


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